Incrediboy vs Incredigirl
by Guille van Cartier
Summary: Strange what pressing the wrong button can do. It landed Violet Parr into the Golden age of supers, where she meets her dad fighting crime in his prime. But, more importantly, she meets Buddy, a kid with more dreams and attitude than she can handle.
1. The Epoch

**Incrediboy vs. Incredigirl**

**Author's Note:**** Yeah yeah yeah... heheh Okeyday, this is my first _actual_ Incredibles fic; I have another with them in it, but it's not completely Incredibles and who KNOWS if I'll ever get back to that. haha! ANYWAY, yeah, this deals in a Syndrome andViolet relationship that occurs after the movie, but not exactly. You read the synopsis; you know what I mean! I like the idea, and I hope you will too; sorry if my writing comes across as not that good, but I was really eager to put this up on the internet. Read and tell me what you think, please!  
**

* * *

**Disclaimer: I'm not smart and creative like those other Disclaimer writers, so I'm just gonna say: Don't sue, I don't have anything anyone would want. I'm not getting any money from this, and Incredibles doesn't belong to me outside of my dreams. Sadly.  
**

* * *

**Chapter 1: The Epoch**

* * *

_ Oh geez._

Violet felt her body stiffen abruptly, her teeth clenched up tight and her mouth drying out from a sudden anxiety.

_This can't be happening. Not again, not while I'm out on a date with Tony. It's only been five minutes since we got here; we're even still in line for the tickets! Please! Don't tell me this is happening. It's not fair!_

For a moment, Violet's eyes closed up against the white light of the marquee above, her hands balling up into fists as she muttered a focused wish. _Please, not tonight. Not tonight._

A split second later, another trilling tone broke out muffled from her purse, and Violet let out a defeated groan. She hadn't been mistaken. It was happening again.

Her cell phone was ringing.

Tony looked at Violet from his place beside her in the ticket line, one eyebrow cocked high on his forehead to show his confusion.

"Um, Vi?" he asked, half-laughing at the still-stiffened pose she'd taken on. "Are you going to answer that?"

Violet glanced at him, but didn't respond right away, letting the question hang in the chilled, night air like some ever-present phantom.

She didn't want to answer it. She _really_ didn't want to answer it. She knew who it was, what it was about, and what she would have to do _if_ she answered her cell phone, and she knew, straight for a _fact_, that she did not want to answer it.

Another ring.

They weren't going to give up anytime soon it seemed.

Violet let it ring out once more, listening to the long wavering note as it played and faded out, begging for an answer. She knew that they didn't _mean_ to interrupt her time with Tony, and that they wouldn't call for her if something they couldn't handle alone hadn't come up; it wasn't like they hated her or Tony enough to deliberately try to get in the way. Nevertheless, she wanted them to know what importance the evening had to her and just how much she wished she could just ignore the call. The time she could actually spend with Tony was always precious to her, and whenever they had to cut in…

"Vi, it's still ringing you know," Tony said with his usual grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

She looked at him finally, smiling ironically as if to say, "I _know_ that, Captain Obvious, thanks." She flipped her purse open, digging through loose change and Kleenex to grab at her still ringing cell phone. A few seconds later she had it pressed up against her ear, and before she could get a word out, Helen Parr's slightly displeased voice came barreling at her from the other end.

"Vi, what took you so long?" she demanded, the question half-snarled and indignant.

Violet cringed visibly at the sound of her mother's voice. It twanged full of irritation.

"Sorry. I couldn't find my cell," she lied, trying her best to sound sincere in hopes of damming up the rest of her mother's wrath before it could flood into the conversation.

For a moment, it seemed Helen didn't believe her daughter, but for whatever reason, she decided not to jump on the feeling. "Well, now that you've found it, you've got to get going. Get here as quick as you can; we've got a situation."

Violet tried unsuccessfully to withhold a groan. She _knew_ it.

"Mom—"

"We're at the Metroville bank," Helen broke in, her voice quick in what now seemed anxiety. "Shouldn't be too far away; I'll fill you in on the details later, okay, Vi?"

"But, mom, my date—"

"I know, honey, and I'm sorry," Helen replied, her voice softening slightly, coming out half-maternal and half-annoyed.

_Sure don't _sound_ sorry, _Violet thought with some trace of resentment, her lips pursing together into a pout unseen by her mother. She didn't say anything, though she wanted to. She had a reason to be annoyed, but she found it unfair that her mother would talk to her as if that feeling was wrong.

"I know how much you want to go on a date with Tony, and—"

"It's okay… I understand," Violet muttered, disappointed, obviously (and for good reason), but knowing of her duty. Ever since Syndrome's death and the eventual reinstatement of their crime fighting rights, Violet had undertaken her newfound responsibility as superhero with a strong, though somewhat tentative, determination.

She hadn't found complete comfort in her new role, but she strove her hardest to discover it. She'd taken time to study her powers, patrolled the streets with her family on their set hours whenever she could…

And she'd made sacrifices.

Apparently, this was going to have to be one of them.

Darn.

"Okay," Helen said finally, her voice sounding more sincere in its remorse than it had before Violet had accepted the mission.

"I'll meet you there," Violet assured her.

"Good. Elastigirl out."

The conversation came to an end with a double beep, and Violet pulled the phone away from her ear and before her, staring at it as if it held some deep and hidden answer to a question she'd been thinking way too much about. But, shrugging her shoulders in defeat, she hung up her end and replaced her cell phone back where it belonged, half buried beneath tissues and other useful things scattered about her purse.

Violet brought in a deep breath, holding it for a moment with closed eyes before releasing it slowly, hoping to calm herself down a bit. Her heart beat hard up against her sternum, riled up from some still lingering disappointment and that recurring anxiety felt at the dawn of some new mission.

She should hurry up and get over to the bank, before something happened. Mom seemed pretty upset. That meant that something important had probably come up, maybe armed fugitives or something like that, that they needed her powers for. Good thing that the bank wasn't too far away from the theatre; she should reach it in good time if she just ran a little fast—

"So, what was that about?"

Violet's heart nearly jumped up into her throat. She'd forgotten something.

She looked to Tony, who stood innocently nearby, hands tucked into his pockets with that grin playing across his face, so charming… and so unknowing. Violet felt herself shrink again inwardly. Guilt flooded into her system, and the plans she'd made in her head fell apart like a to-do list thrown into a bucket of wash-water.

Violet somehow found the courage to look up at him, her mouth curved slightly into an apologetic smile, "Tony…" she said his name awkwardly, trying to gather the right words in her head before she broke the bad news. She'd had to do this so many times already, but the moment never lost its awkwardness or its difficulty. "I—"

Tony's face fell, and his mouth strained into a taught line. "Something's up, huh?"

Violet half-laughed, half-cringed inside. He was _that_ used to it already, huh?

"Yeah," she admitted, embarrassed. She glanced at her bag, where her cell phone now rested peacefully, then turned her gaze back to her boyfriend. She could see how disappointed he felt, with his eyes finding a place to rest everywhere, it seemed, other than on her face, one toe sliding disconsolately against the scratching concrete of the sidewalk in front of the cinema. She bit her lip, her hands writhing uncomfortably as the silence lingered on between them, the backdrop of passing cars and nattering couples seeming no more than an eerily empty backdrop to the awkward but pathetically typical situation they'd found themselves in.

"What is it?" he asked after a moment, shrugging his shoulders as if the question came from some offhand curiosity.

Violet pursed her lips, trying to think up an answer.

She settled for the normal generic.

"Family emergency," she replied, looking down at her hands, which tugged nervously at the hem of her shirt, straightening out a few wrinkles that really meant nothing to her at the moment past something to make her look busy. She could imagine Tony's look of disbelief; she braced herself for his inevitable reaction.

"_Again_?" he asked. His voice came out strained, like he'd tried to sound mildly surprised in hopes of hiding the doubt he felt. The attempt ended up somewhere between a hiss and a squeak, and even Tony cringed at not only the accusatory tone but the pitiful way he'd said it.

"That's our family for you," Violet replied, glancing up with a smile, trying to sound conversational.

Tony didn't smile back. He managed to look away, shrugging his shoulders again, his face turning up to the marquee as it lit up the night sky that hung above them. Violet frowned.

"I'm really sorry, Tony," she said softly She reached out to take his shoulder, squeezing it with a sorry gentleness.

Tony turned slightly, looking at her with a smile, small and slightly forced, but still characteristic of that Rydinger charm that Violet had fallen for in the first place. "I know," he said. He patted her hand. "I'd just like to spend sometime with my girlfriend. You know, more than five minutes before her weekly family emergency?"

"I know, I know," Violet said. She glanced at her watch, her heart skipping a beat when she noticed just how many minutes had passed since her mother had called. She _really _had to go, but she didn't want to leave with Tony looking _that_ disappointed.

"Well, I guess you have to go now, huh?" Tony asked, half mumbling as his eyes found their way back onto the marquee.

"Yeah," Violet agreed guiltily.

Tony looked back, once again trying at a reassuring smile. "Well, see you then."

Violet nodded, starting to turn, her mind almost completely switching over to super-heroine mode when something popped into her mind. She made a swift return to Tony, planting a chaste kiss on his cheek. Tony's attention came completely upon her, his eyes widening in pleasant surprise.

"Tomorrow, okay?" she said, looking up into his eyes. "We can go to a café or something. My treat."

"Well…" Tony let the word trail off, hand finding his chin in mock-consideration, though his mind was already made up. "Well, I think Bobby's going to ask me to go with him to some comic convention in town tomorrow, so…" He tapped a finger on his bottom look, pursing his mouth and lowering his brows like some fabled thinker, minus the pedestal to sit on. Finally, his brows lifted charmingly, a wide grin splitting his handsome face. "I'd love to."

"Great!" Violet half-exclaimed, relieved that Tony hadn't completely started hating her just yet. "I'll meet you tomorrow then. Five o' clock?"

"See you there."

With that, Violet turned down the street, taking the sidewalk with long, purposeful strides. She turned back, waving at an increasingly shrinking Tony, before skidding along a street corner and hurrying towards the bank. That dark canopy of sky stared down at her from between buildings as she made her rush through Metroville's streets, watching as she sped past people, through sidewalks, down alleys, excitement and fear shining in her eyes, quivering through her spine and shoulders. She hoped things at the bank were still doing okay.

She stopped at an abandoned alleyway almost to the bank, pulling off her clothes piece by piece to reveal a bright red suit waiting ready underneath. Bundling them up carefully and slipping them into her purse, she pulled out the last and most important part of her ensemble from a zipped up outer compartment.

Her mask slipped easily onto her face, fitted and perfect, completely her.

Incredigirl was ready.

* * *

The moment she arrived, on guard and prepared for a fight, she'd thought that maybe she'd missed the whole ordeal. Smoke trickled out of the bank through its front door, only bare gray wisps that drifted smoky in the cold air. The trees that had once lined the concrete sidewalk lay bent and splintered on the asphalt littering leaves and branches across the street. The bank and surrounding buildings had new cracks rising in jagged ripples across their faces; it seemed a fight had occurred. 

A fight that must have ended already.

Mr. Incredible and Elastigirl stood in the center of the scene and did little else than that, once in a while their heads darting back and forth across the way as if they were keeping track of some fly that was buzzing in their ears. There was no sound but the stifled wail of distant but approaching sirens, and the fast and incessant pattering of what she knew to be Dash's running feet.

"Mom, dad!" she yelled, making her approach with a confused face.

The two turned suddenly. "Incredigirl!"

"What…what's going on?" she asked, eyes still glancing over the scene without full understanding. Dash's footsteps continued to echo against the buildings, but Violet couldn't catch any sight of her brother; he must've been running very fast. "Is it over? What happened?"

"It's not over," Helen replied, regaining the guarded look she'd lost momentarily upon Incredigirl's arrival. Violet could see her eyes darting back and forth the way her head had just moments before. "Whoever this guy is, his speed and reaction time are almost as fast as Dash's… we can't get him down."

"As fast as Dash's?" Violet repeated incredulously. She looked up to where her mother's gaze was currently following, noticing now two blurs of pure speed passing suddenly nearby, disturbing her hair as wind picked up around them.

"Yeah," Mr. Incredible replied, taking a sudden swing at the passing duo and cursing as his fist hit empty air. "Dash is pretty much the only one keeping this guy in the area."

Violet felt a slight wave of relief at the news, but Helen cut into her thoughts almost immediately. "But he's getting tired. This guy's got speed, reaction time, and a whole heap of stamina; I don't know how much longer the kid can keep it up."

A loud yell broke through the relative quiet, apparently Dash screaming at the criminal to, "Just give up" because, it was "getting real boring." Again, another blast of cold air shot past the three helpless supers as the two shot along through the street, and Violet watched, now keeping an eye on the chase as her parents had.

"What are we going to do, then?" she asked, keeping a good pace on where Dash was, though he appeared little more than a yellow and red blur, passing over debris and in front of street openings; whoever the criminal was, she could spot him just as easily. A haze of whites and grays, keeping a bare lead over Dash and not showing any sign of wear or desire to stop. She'd never seen this one before; maybe a new super villain come to terrorize Metroville and show what he was worth to the world against the famous Incredibles. So far he was doing a pretty bang up job.

"We can't do anything," Elastigirl replied tersely, trying to keep track of Dash's current location with only a stumbling and difficult success. She wasn't as used to watching Dash as Violet was (linked to Violet's deeper familiarity with Dash's speed and the pranks that inevitably would come with the ability).

Violet looked back at her mom and dad, shocked at the news. "What do you mean?"

"We've tried everything, honey," Mr. Incredible replied, looking down at her. He'd given up on watching the race, even less used to that sort of thing than his wife and daughter. "This guy is just too fast for us… your mom and I don't have the right sorts of powers to deal with it. I'm not fast enough to get the guy."

"Neither am I," Helen admitted, her face taking on a fierce look, as if the confession struck her somewhere deep. "He's skipped every trap, dodged every attack. If it weren't for Dash, he'd be long gone already."

Violet blinked in disbelief, trying but unable at that moment to reestablish her grip on her brother's chase. "So, it's all up to Dash?" she muttered. She was almost unable to believe the predicament they'd found themselves in.

Her parents, unable to deal with a villain. That seemed almost as impossible as Syndrome popping into the scene, back from the dead. Mr. Incredible with his can do attitude, Elastigirl with her ever-present grip on the situation. What were they supposed to do if these two, who could do so much, could do nothing?

"Yes, it's up to Dash," Helen answered. Her gaze came from the far end of the street to rest upon Violet, joining her husband's, same in its firm but gentle strength. "But, it's also up to you too, Incredigirl."

Violet ripped her attention from Dash and her thoughts, and turned to face her parents, utter shock slapped on her masked face, topped off heavily with uncertainty. "Me?" she asked her voice high and anxiously skeptical of the situation.

"Yes. You," Mr. Incredible replied calmly, completely understanding his daughter's outburst.

"But, why—what am _I _supposed to do?" she demanded, eyes wide and begging for an alternative path. "I never dealt with a super villain on my own! I don't know how, I—"

"Don't doubt yourself, Incredigirl," Helen said, putting a finger on her daughter's lips to quiet her. "Look, we need you to do this, or the villain might get away. You've dealt with Dash before; you know how to act in a situation like this."

Violet tried to look away, catching sight of the double blur before Helen brought her daughter's gaze back to her own with a steadily gentle hand. "Vi, we _need _you. You can do this, we know you can."

Violet looked at her mother, catching the trust so obvious in her face. One quick glance showed her that her father had the same look too. Her eyes drifted to the ground, resting on a crack running up through the black asphalt, that familiar uncertainty muddying her thoughts and eating away at the resolution she'd formed up on her race to the scene. Dash's progressively louder demands began to break through more often; he was getting tired. The only time he would complain like that was when he was losing his lead, falling back into a losing position that he didn't want to admit he had.

Meeting her mother's gaze once more, she stiffened her upper lip and made up her mind.

She turned, searching the scene swiftly, catching sight of her brother seconds later as he passed before the mouth of a connecting street, keeping the criminal from escaping down a byway. From there, she held onto the chase with her eyes, following every movement, every pass, every turn, her back bent in a half crouch, her hands up with crooking fingers, waiting for the precise moment.

The two zoomed past and Violet pushed a purple bubble into existence, blinking against the disturbed air. No… she'd missed. She felt the doubt bubbling up from beneath the cover she'd set up against it, but she did her best to push it back, concentrating on the villain as he continued to run.

Another pass by. Another force field. Another miss.

Violet growled. She'd done this a million times with Dash. She could _do _this.

Pass by. Force field. Miss.

Dash's yells grew louder. Helen and Bob watched from behind. She could practically feel them cringe every time the field formed and disappeared with nothing to show. She clenched her teeth, setting her jaw hard, her eyes squinting in deeper focus as the villain led Dash around the street, as fast as always.

Again, another miscalculation, only milliseconds late in the chase. She heard Dash let out a startled shriek as he made a slight veer to the side of his path, managing to dodge the bubble before colliding straight into it. Violet felt her teeth rattle as they clenched tighter together. Just then, she'd almost lost her family the villain.

Could she do this?

She watched Dash scramble to regain the lost distance, his struggle slightly visible as the constant beat of his boots against the pavement fell into a different, slightly staccato rhythm, lasting for moments before returning.

Violet set her jaw harder, teeth scraping against teeth, so determined they could crack.

She could do this.

"Stop!" Dash yelled.

She could hear how tired he sounded, his bare pants as he forced himself to continue running.

"Come on, you chicken, give up!"

He wasn't going to make it. He'd been at it for too long; the villain was going to beat him.

"Stop!"

They were coming closer… Violet could hear Dash… closer, more desperate, more tired.

"STOP!"

Nothing but blurs. Approaching.

Closer…

Force field.

There was no pass by, no miss, no wind kicked up by superhuman speed. Only the buzz of a barrier and the sudden metallic bang of someone knocking up against its rounded walls. Violet's eyes opened slowly, after closing just as she made the force-sphere, and she saw, her heart skipping in her chest, a purple-tinted blur running frantically along its edges.

Dash jogged to a stop nearby, his breathing hard and wheezy, hands clutching at his knees as he bent over in exhaustion. Behind her, she could hear the sounds of her mother and father whooping in celebration, the ground rumbling beneath her as Mr. Incredible jumped up in down in pure joy.

"Way to go, Incredigirl!" Bob yelled. He was laughing hysterically, punching the air as if he'd just won the biggest game of the century.

"We're so proud of you," Helen added in, smiling.

"Yeah," Dad agreed breathlessly. He fell onto the ground with a slight thump, breathing still harsh but slowly beginning to calm. "Took you long enough," he managed to add, sending her one of his saucy looks from his bed on the asphalt.

"Shut up, insect," Violet snapped. She was only half-joking.

Violet looked at her hands, fingers bent and quivering from excitement. She felt the crackle of energy prickling not unpleasantly through her fingers, the usual sensation felt whenever she conjured a barrier.

Her eyes rose to the force field.

She did it.

She'd actually done it. She couldn't believe it. She watched as the blur inside began to decelerate, forming finally into a visible figure banging fists against her field and screaming out demands to be set free.

Violet certainly hadn't seen this villain before. Scrawny in a stereotypically nerdy way, his back was crouched slightly, as if bent from a lifetime of trying to support his unusually large head, which was helmeted with a visor hiding his face. His stick-like forearms were wrapped in thick, white guards, adorned with a stylized "e" which could also be seen emblazoned wildly in bigger form across his thin chest. His wrists held matching white watches, and random numbers and clock faces decorated his gray body suit and boots in a painfully obvious (and hideous) theme.

He would've made Edna Mode vomit from disgust.

And then possibly push her to the point of murder in a fit of fashion, bad pun intended and all.

"Let me out of here!" he shrieked, his voice high and perfectly fit for whining over weather conditions and allergies. "I demand you set me free!"

"Like that's gonna happen," Violet said, her resolve reset, eyes rolling behind her mask. Violet maintained the field, bringing the squealing villain closer for a better look.

Violet examined him once more over to make sure she didn't know who he was, and she looked over her shoulder at her father and mother, who seemed to be doing the same thing.

"So… you know him?" Violet asked.

Both of them exchanged a glance and shook their heads.

"Never seen this one before," Mr. Incredible said, walking over to the bubble and leaning in to give the criminal a good perusal. "Nope… I think I would remember this one," he said, wrinkling his nose and chuckling goodheartedly at the decorative costume.

"I was almost beat by _that_?" Dash had arrived, still a little out of breath but back to his normal self. He pouted almost indignantly at the homely and pathetic being that continued to bang and rave inside of the impenetrable bubble, arms crossing against his chest. His eyes ran over to his insignia. "What does the 'e' stand for?"

The man inside spat disgustedly, bony, gloved hands pressed up against the field. "You Incredibles, thinking you're better than all of us because of your _superpowers_ and matching outfits. Ha! You're _not_, you know!"

The family passed each other a glance, and almost simultaneously rolled their eyes.

_Here we go…_

"What does the 'e' stand for?" Dash asked again, as if trying to interrupt the man before he got started.

"I've watched from the television these past few months, those actions and moves you thought were so heroic. I couldn't believe the lot of you, flaunting yourselves and your powers in your expensive red outfits, kicking down people just because they could."

"I'm pretty sure most of 'em were doing something illegal," Violet mumbled unhappily.

"What does the 'e' stand for?" Dash asked again, his tone more insistent.

The man continued, ignoring the both of them. "Well, I decided you needed to be knocked down a few pegs. Just because you're supers doesn't mean you're better than the rest of us, you know. We got police; they can take care of crime and bank robberies. You needed to be stopped by someone, showed that you weren't undefeatable, _Mr. Incredible, Elastigirl, Incredigirl, and the Dash._" He said their names with a bite to his voice, a familiar action taken by the monologuing villain that supposedly added menace to their speeches. Sometimes that was true, but not right now, from a man who was sneering helpless from inside Violet's force field, seeming like some malnourished, rabid hamster trapped inside a plastic play-ball.

"What does the 'e' stand for?" Dash pouted dangerously, but was ignored.

"I decided I would be the one to show you! I, the master of time!"

"What does the 'e'—"

"—who could move through a world slowed down so that I appear nothing more than a—"

"—'e' stand for?"

"—who nearly defeated—"

"WHAT DOES THE 'E' STAN—"

"THE EPOCH!"

"—stand fo—oh."

The Epoch punched the air with what would've been a triumphant fist if he wasn't so far at the mercy of the group of supers, who, at the moment, where raising their eyebrows and trying their hardest not to laugh.

"Yeah, he's a newbie," Mr. Incredible said with a shrug of his large shoulders, scratching at the back of his head.

"The epoch?" Dash muttered the name over, making a face. "What the heck's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"It means an era in time or something like that," Violet replied, glancing over to her brother and raising the force field off the ground as the sounds of approaching police cars grew louder from proximity.

"That's stupid," Dash said, hands on his hips. "Why do they pick names that have nothing to do with their power or anything?"

Violet shrugged, walking over to meet the police van and cars as they zoomed into the scene, holding up the purple force field before her. The Epoch, now seeing what future he had made for himself from whatever stupid "peg-knocking-down" he'd attempted to accomplish that night, had began fighting in a new fit of desperation, and even started to beg for his freedom. Violet only cast him a cold smile before guiding the field into the open van doors of the police truck, only releasing her hold when they had him shut and locked in securely.

"You can't keep me in here, I'm a good guy at heart!" he yelled from inside, his hands grabbing at the barred window set into the heavy-metal twin doors. "I mean it. I only blew into the bank to get their attention, honest!"

Violet shook her head, watching with a smile as the policemen proceeded to tell the supposed "super villain" to shut up and get away from the bars.

Mr. and Mrs. Incredible came up from behind, their two fellow supers, smiling with such pride and warmth that Violet could feel her temperature rising, a deep red blush coloring her pale face.

"You two did a great job," Helen congratulated them, stretching her arms out to bring them toward her and enveloping them in a loving hug. Mr. Incredible joined in, his muscled arms wrapped tight around the whole family.

"Sure did," the large man agreed, picking the family up off the ground for a moment in a momentous bear hug before setting them back on the ground again and ruffling Dash's hair. "We're proud of you guys."

"Your first villain beat without our help," Helen said, looking like a mother whose child had just taken their first steps. "I don't believe it."

"Came a lot sooner than we expected, didn't it, Elastigirl?" Bob said. He draped over her thin shoulders in a light and friendly embrace, looking over his kids so intently it seemed he wanted to concentrate the scene into a memory he would be able to remember for a lifetime.

"Our little superheroes are growing up."

Dash seemed to explode with pride and excitement. "Does this mean that we can start having our _own_ missions soon?" he asked, jumping up and down. He began to race around his parents in a childish circle, blue eyes staring up into their faces with the expectancy of a hungry puppy.

"Now let's not be too hasty," Bob said, his face falling a bit at the thought. "We've still got a bit of growing to do."

Dash continued to run, though his expression dropped into an indignant frown. "Oh come on, dad!"

Helen laughed, grinning at the two as a little argument started over exactly what growing was needed and whether or not Dash was as great as Mr. Incredible was already. Her husband answered, "Close but no cigar," an answer Dash didn't seem to be too happy with, which he showed by speeding off and yelling something about the man's waistline that rang a little too insulting for the older super's liking. This ended up with a light-hearted chase, fueled more by the adrenaline rush of a win than by real anger.

Elastigirl watched for a few minutes, smiling, before noticing her daughter watching soundlessly as the policemen continued their attempts at shutting the Epoch up. He wasn't too good a villain, to be truthful, but, even though he didn't know when it was really appropriate, he was actually pretty good at monologuing. She didn't know whether or not he recognized this, but it sure would explain why he just kept going on and on…

"Hey, Incredigirl." Helen's arm found a place around her daughter's shoulders, and she could feel a slight jump of surprise from Violet at the contact.

"Hey," the girl responded, tucking a wandering lock of hair behind one oversized ear.

"You did a good job today."

"Well…he wasn't that great a villain anyway," Violet said modestly, trying to act calm and offhand, like the victory hadn't meant anything special at all.

But Helen knew it really did. Violet had yet to completely become comfortable in that super suit, in a metaphorical sense; the moment she had the Epoch trapped in her field, she could see the pride in her daughter's face that came flowing out from behind the preliminary shock.

Her squeezed Violet's shoulder's lovingly. "Be proud, Incredigirl. I sure am."

Violet was quiet for a long moment, as if contemplating her mother's words. Then, it seemed to click in her brain, and the happiness she felt came so intense that Helen could almost feel it bounding out of her in waves. Their eyes met, and their smiles widened. They hugged.

"Thanks, mom."

* * *

Mr. Incredible stood with the policemen beside the black van that now housed the Epoch, the rest of the super family already having left for home. 

He was explaining exactly what had happened that night, leading up to the villain's eventual capture.

The Incredibles had been on their rounds; they shared a nightly patrol with several other supers that Metroville happened to house, broken up by hours. They'd passed by the bank at the tail end of their shift and had managed to catch the Epoch as he'd blown through the bank. Elastigirl had stopped him from entering, and the villain had made an attempt to escape, stopped easily by Mr. Incredible. At that moment, the Epoch had reached for his wrist, and that was when what seemed superhuman speed came into play. Lucky for them, Dash was up to the challenge, and met every attempt at escape, stopping the criminal from disappearing from the scene. He'd run a full twenty minutes straight at full speed before Violet had arrived to save the day.

"So, a new villain?" one of the cops asked, gesturing to the van with a slight smile and a raised eyebrow.

"Isn't it obvious?" Mr. Incredible asked with a grin. The group shared a collective laugh, which caused another fit from the villain, who seemed to not only be taken by monologuing but complaining as well.

Banging on the side of the car and not getting much of a change in the stream of protests other than a slight interrupting squeak that was quickly drowned out by another flood, the policemen did little more than sigh, shake their heads and decided that now was the time to go back to the station.

As the vehicles started up, the police force thanked the superhero in unison. Soon enough, they began to disappear down the road, van trailing the rest of the group, with the Epoch yelling from the inside. Mr. Incredible groaned, seeing that he had yet to completely give up, the white gloved hands and wrists hanging out through the bars making fists and other gestures at the superhero as they drove away.

Mr. Incredible was about to leave, when he noticed something lying on the ground where the van had been. It shone white on the black asphalt, glowing a slight yellow from the dim light of a nearby streetlamp.

"What the…?"

He leaned down to look at it.

It was a single white watch with a digital face declaring the time, shining metal buttons gracing the outer rim that glittered in the streetlight. It was one of the Epoch's, he realized suddenly. The band had snapped; probably during one of his little scenes at the van's doors.

He tentatively picked it up, looking over the contraption closely.

"Doesn't look too damaged… could make a good wristwatch," he mumbled to himself. He didn't see anything wrong with it apart from a few scratches, a scuff or two barely visible on the digital screen. Looking around himself as if he were about to do something naughty, he tucked the watch into his side, and made for home.

Helen would probably yell at him if she found out that he'd taken home the watch. Especially since it'd come from a criminal.

But, the way he saw it, it was just a watch, and it would just be a waste leaving it down there. And who knew who else could pick it up and do evil with it? All that Mr. Incredible wanted to do with it was maybe fix up the band and use it for the time; if that didn't work he could stuck it under a glass case and showcase it as a visible memory of that night's landmark. No harm in that, was there?

"Anyway," he muttered to himself, racing off through Metroville's quieting streets, "there's nothing wrong with taking home a little souvenir."


	2. The Watch

**Author's Note: Yup, second chapter. Within how many days? Well, how every many, it's seriously weird for me to update this soon. I'm a procrastinator at heart, and I'm really well known of dropping a story for months on end, and sometimes just doing a first chapter and not touching it again at all. I'm quite good at that. Lucky for you, I've felt quite a bit of motivation to write lately. What keeps me going is good Incredibles fanfiction, so you go on and write some please. Even better if it's Synlet, because I know that pairing doesn't get a lot of stories, haha. ANYWAY, sorry if the writings wonky in this chapitre. I guess I've been pretty darned busy. WELL ANYWAY...**

**READ AND REVIEW, S'IL TE PLAIT! No flames, because, frankly, they don't make me feel nice. **

* * *

**Disclaimer: See chapter one, cuz I don' wanna say it agin.  
**

* * *

**Chapter 2: The Watch**

* * *

"Pass me the rocky road, Vi." Dash motioned to the chocolate tub eagerly, one hand reaching across the dining table with wiggling fingers. Smudges of melting brown dripped along the sides of his mouth, remnants of the earlier servings he'd eaten just minutes before. 

Helen Parr frowned. She gave her son a displeased look. "Dash, if you want something, you ask for it. No reaching across the table; it's rude."

Dash glanced at his mother for a second in slight surprise before turning back to the rocky road, which had yet to come his way. "Hey, I asked," he responded, fingers still groping through the air hungrily at the tub of ice cream sitting stationary beside his sister's hand. Violet sat on the other side of the table, her own bowl of ice cream sitting unfinished before her, attention switching from the carton, to her mother, and then to Dash, who she passes a somewhat mischievous smile.

_Not yet, Dash,_ she seemed to say, her gaze flickering to her mother for a second. _Not yet. _

Helen's disapproving expression now had a cocked eyebrow added into the mix. Apparently, she hadn't liked Dash's terse reply; her lips began to purse in that look she got which both Parr kids had firmly attached to punishment over the years. Violet noted it with an inward grin, but Dash seemed to busy demanding ice cream to notice it.

"Dash," Helen began, withdrawing the spoon of vanilla that had hovered before Jack-jack's ready mouth just moments before.

"Mom," the boy whined, glaring at Violet, "Vi won't give me the ice cream."

"Ask nicely," Violet demanded. She leaned forward in a slightly combative fashion, wrinkling her nose in his direction with half-slit eyes.

The older woman groaned slightly, putting a hand on her temple and looking down bemusedly, shaking her head in steadily increasing dissatisfaction. Not another argument; those things typified Violet and Dash's relationship as much nowadays as it did before their encounter with Syndrome. The two had gotten closer since that incident, but Helen couldn't help but think that since the bonding had taken place while the two wore their super suits, that's as far as it had gone. While on the battlefield, their relationship played out as pleasantly ideal, representing the type of cooperative link a brother and sister should have. If they did that all for the public and the papers, Helen didn't know, but it was certain that the same change hadn't transferred into their daily lives. Though she knew the two loved each other and they acted much more tolerant of each other than they had back when Dash had no outlet for his energy and Vi hid shyly behind her hair, the arguments still came and went like maelstroms.

When this was going to stop and how they would do it, Helen didn't know, but she knew that another argument wasn't appropriate at that time. After all, they were celebrating a landmark that occurred only once in every superhero's life. As rude as Dash acted, she didn't want to spoil the occasion.

"No fighting at the table!" she hissed, half-yelling, tone resolute and final in its bite.

The two gave each other a final antagonizing look before ending the argument, sitting back with an almost forced relaxation into their chairs.

"Pass the Rocky Road, please," Dash managed to mutter through a pout, arms crossed against his chest and eyes glaring resolutely onto the floor beside the table.

"Here." Violet picked up the tub and placed it, harder than needed, in front of Dash. The two exchanged a stiff thank you and welcome before returning back to their bowls.

At that moment, the front door opened with Bob coming into the house, more ice cream sitting in plastic bags that he held in his hands. "I'm back!" he proclaimed, greeted by smiles and hellos, along with Dash and Jack-jack's enthused demands for the flavors he'd just picked up from the convenience store. He'd gone after finding out they only had two tubs of ice cream left in the freezer. Definitely not suitable for a nighttime ice cream party, especially not when his family (mainly him and Dash) was involved.

He came in, closing the door behind him and put the bags on to the floor.

"I've got vanilla, rainbow sherbet, cookies and cream, chocolate, and, just because this is such a special occasion..." He reached into one bag and pulled out a couple of unusually decorated cartons, displaying them beside his face with a wide grin. "…some Ben and Jerry's! Double Fudge Brownie and Chunky Monkey, just because we're so proud of you kids."

Dash whooped loudly in happiness, and Violet thanked her dad with a soft smile splitting her round face. The argument between the two siblings had dropped completely. Ice cream was more important at the moment.

The night passed in relative contentment, filled with conversation about life and school that seemed more pleasant at that moment than usual, with the occasional reminder from either parents about that night's happenings and just how proud they really were about it. Enough ice cream to cause several stomachaches in lesser beings, plenty of laughter, and just the plain good feelings born of a night spent being a normal family made the night a memorable one. It ended in a food fight, and when Helen had gotten a gob of sherbet splattered on her hair, the whole family decided that it was time to maybe turn in.

Violet was brushing Chunky Monkey out of her teeth when she remembered the promise she'd made to Tony about the café the next morning. She stared at herself in the mirror, her brushing beginning to slow as streams of thoughts flowed into her mind, that usual quiet taking her over as she lost herself in the deluge.

She'd messed things up pretty bad with him. Skipping out on dates, making up excuses so lame that she didn't believe them even when she said them herself… Why did he still stay with her? She was lucky. Really lucky. Tonight, she'd seen the disappointment in his eyes. The way he looked away from her…

She needed to make up not only for tonight, but for all those other nights that she'd blown him off. There was no way Violet would let anything else get in the way of getting to that café.

"Vi, hurry up!" Dash stood at the door with a pained expression, doing a familiar quick and tiptoed dance. "Your teeth are okay now; I _really_ need to go!"

Scrunching her face in disgust, Violet washed out her mouth and cleaned her brush as fast as she could, Dash prodding her to hurry it up for the whole time. The moment her feet came out into the hall, Dash was in the bathroom and the door had shut with a slam behind her. She got to her room with somewhat disturbing sounds of relief following her.

Violet entered her bedroom and flopped onto her bed, which was propped up against the far wall beneath a single window, thin, flow-y curtains draping downward from the rod in loosely pleated waves. Random posters of bands she liked to listen to and movies she watched and enjoyed decorated the walls, strangely neat and straight, edges lined up parallel to the walls and ceiling in an almost meticulously exact manner. The girl had a slightly abnormal admiration for order in her life, probably spawned from the years she spent confused over her life and who she was exactly. Some semblance of organization in a bustle of unanswered and unanswerable questions, she supposed after spending some thought on the matter a long time ago, during one of those quiet thinking spells she tended to have.

Yeah, that was it.

Violet closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the happiness spill out slowly, as if she'd been a water balloon pricked by a needle. She felt worn out, more tired than she should be.

"Okay, then, time for sleep," she mumbled to herself. She reached onto her bedside table, where her lamp lit up the room with a dim orange light and her phone and clock sat neatly to the side, stumbling with the buttons on the timepiece to set the alarm.

After several moments of clicking at buttons, trying to get things to work, Violet realized something was wrong. The digital face of the clock was blank; the alarm clock wasn't working.

Groaning frustrated to herself, she checked behind her beside table to make sure that the thing was plugged in. Finding out it was, she decided there must've been something wrong inside the stupid clock and that she really hated how technology tended to aim a kick at your shin when you were already limping. She needed that alarm; she wanted to make sure she'd wake up at the right time so she could _really_ get ready to spend time with Tony. She didn't want to disappoint; she'd done that way too many times already.

She sat up from her bed, mumbling to herself in irritation, and made for the door, turning down the hall toward her dad's study. He kept an alarm clock in there; since he already had one in his room, she doubted he really needed that one, and she didn't think he'd mind her borrowing it. At least not until her own alarm got fixed or replaced.

She pushed open the door slowly, the door creaking loud, eerie against the relative quiet of the household. Inside, a dim desk light cast an orange glow across the room, dramatically illuminating the framed posters and memorabilia that stared down from the close walls. Shelves held books and mission souvenirs, and her father's old blue super suit stood propped up nearby in its protective glass casing. A desk sat at the far end of the room, a television sitting to the side with a portable radio trickling out streams of light jazz. There, Bob Parr sat in his seat, body hunched over the desk, head cushioned by his large forearms, snoring lightly.

Violet opened the door even more softly when she saw her father sleeping. She never liked disturbing her father when he slept, though finding him napping away in his study when he should be asleep in his room did strike her a little strange. But shrugging off the questions, she inched to his desk, where the alarm clock sat beside the desk lamp.

She noticed with disappointment that the alarm pip on the side of the clock's face was switched on. Dad was using it.

Violet sighed deeply, shaking her head at her luck. Of _course_ he was using it. That's just how things worked nowadays. Against her. Everything worked against her.

As she turned to stomp indignantly toward the door, she noticed a little white watching sitting on the desk beside her father's elbow. Furrowing her brow in curiosity, she made her way back, examining it for a moment, noting the buttons with a sort of excited relief. This probably had an alarm on it. The only problem she could perceive was the ripped up wristband.

She tentatively picked up the device, looking it over a final time before taking a step toward the door. She glanced at her father, who hadn't budged from his place at the desk, and smiled, whispering a small thank you before passing out of the entrance and onto the hall.

"Weird thing," Violet murmured, clicking at another button and watching with frustration as the screen changed to another incomprehensible jumble of numbers. Violet groaned, jamming herself in frustration against the hallway walls, still playing around with the buttons. "Please don't be busted too," she muttered in an almost threatening way.

The stupid thing had lost any real sense to her. Obviously, there was something really wrong with it, or this wasn't any ordinary wristwatch.

Pressing at a side button, the screen blinked onto yet another set of muddled numbers, incomprehensible to Violet past a vague perception of rates and ratios she'd picked up from math over the years. Each time she'd pressed a button led to another one of these screens, different in arithmetic and meaning, she supposed as she examined them slightly, but definitely not having anything to do with hours and minutes. At least, not in anyway she understood. She pursed her lips, shifting her weight against the wall as she pushed the side button so hard she could hear it crack slightly beneath the force.

Different numbers, same old ridiculous mess.

Violet groaned in exasperation, just about ready to smash the watch against the hall floor. This stood out as another prime example of life pulling another one of its "ruin-Violet's-life" tricks, which came into play so often those days.

She gave up, shrugging as if she'd just been defeated, and shuffled, feet dragging against the carpet, back to her room. Violet continued to play with the watch's buttons, clinging to that lingering but quick fading hope that maybe she could skip past the doors life's been closing and maybe find an open window. But apparently windows in this house were not only locked, but nailed shut.

Violet came into her room feeling her stash of hope drained to its final drops as another numeric jumble came onto the display with what she decided would be her final button press. She put the watch down with a half-slam onto her beside table, sat herself down on the corner of the mattress, and, knees curling up against her thin chest, she fell into another thinking spell.

Thoughts of Tony, their date, all the dates that came before it, especially the one's she'd managed to blow off up until that moment.

She couldn't mess this one up, no matter how small or insignificant a simple trip to the local café might seem.

Well, Violet thought to herself with a slight shrug, I guess I could just try to trust my internal clock…

Not that _that_ ever really did her any good.

She had several tardy slips to vouch for _that. _

Glancing back down at the watch, she felt her grimace deepen. It had no right, looking up at her with that innocent, scuffed face of its, mumbling out numbers and crap that had no right being on a watch other than the _time. _Growling a little in her throat, she reached out and turned the watch over, as if she were hiding the faces on a photograph of someone she wouldn't like to think about. She felt a little ridiculous, looking at its back with an intensity almost meant to bore holes through the metal.

It took her a few moments to notice the little imbedded red button sitting in the center, but she eventually got past her angry staring to notice it and suppose its significance.

"The reset button…?" she asked herself, pulling up the watch for a closer look. Her heart began to beat a little faster, recognizing the possibility that _maybe_ there was an open window in life's stuffy little house.

She opened the drawer of her bedside table and began to rummage for a pen, pushing back crumpled papers, misplaced pocket change, a pair of sunglasses and other such random things you stuffed in the drawer of your bedside table. After a while, she found a black retractable pen, ink long run out, that had found a place amongst the other knickknacks one night when Violet had stuffed it in there out of laziness.

Clicking the pen twice for good luck and as an extra precaution to make sure it wouldn't break apart in her hand (which seemed something that _could _happen, believe it or not), Violet took the watch firmly into her hand, the retractable in the other. She held the pen steady, trying to poke it into the small hole that held the button, a little afraid that maybe the bulk of the head might not fit. The reassuring beep of the button being pressed allayed her fears.

Violet tossed the pen back into the open drawer and flipped the watch over in her hands. She was horrified for a second as she watched the jumble of numbers blink away into oblivion, leaving nothing to look at but an empty screen. A moment that felt longer than it really was passed before Violet let out her held breath, watching in curiosity and relief as a single black word sprouted onto the screen.

She raised an eyebrow.

_**Location…?**_

Was it asking her to set one? What a strange thing for a watch to ask.

Tentatively pressing at a side button, Violet watched somewhat confusedly as another word scrolled into the screen beneath the first.

_**Metroville.**_

Already a default setting, huh? Must've been a native-made device, Violet surmised, nodding her head as she pressed the enter button, the once flickering word solidifying and the watch moving onto the next few settings.

Violet continued at this work, raising her eyebrows at curious settings to be placed, saved by the defaults that happened to be pretty much the correct ones. Her fingers played at the buttons for a good five minutes before she finally reached what seemed the time screen, two zeros blinking at either side of a colon.

"Finally," she mumbled, scratching one temple and letting out a relieved sigh. She was wondering if that was every going to come up.

She didn't have a clock in the room (not one that was willing to work with her, to be more precise), so she made a quick guesstimate from what she remembered seeing in her dad's study, quickly tapping in the time and pressing at the time button.

The next screen brought up what looked to be a date, and Violet let out a frustrated groan. She'd been toying with the darned thing for a while already, a whole lot longer than she should have with a normal, digital watch that didn't care about her name or her location or anything like that. She was _still_ wearing her day clothes and her super suit underneath; she needed to change her clothes and get into bed as soon as possible, and frankly, she didn't have the time or the patience for much more of that.

Violet didn't even think to set the date or correct the default on the screen (which was at _least_ sixteen years removed of the current time), and just pressed enter.

Finally, she said, noticing a second time screen come up onto the display. The alarm.

She set her time for noon, and tucked a lock of hair behind one ear.

She pressed the enter button for the final time.

A flash of light enveloped the room. She had barely any time to scream, let alone figure out what was happening or to stop it; her hands fisted around the timepiece as she felt herself melting away, sucked like a dying spider down a gigantic drain, white light roaring like deadly rapids about her, threatening to tear away at what now felt like liquid skin. She shut her eyes, feeling extreme heat, and then sudden cold, white making way to black.

Nothing but darkness.

Emptiness, echoing her scream against the black infinity, sounding but a mere echo in that place trapped in time and space, streaming along invisible through that place that didn't exist.

And then…

Violet felt herself fall to her knees, head bent down with her back bowed, curved over her own body; she stared down at the ground, white orbs glistening in every inch of her vision. She could feel the burble of nausea in her stomach, the still twisting sensation in her head, the violet tremble that ran through her whole body.

What the hell had just happened?!

Violet closed her eyes, reaching her hands out to touch the ground before her. She stiffened, shocked at the scratch of sidewalk concrete on her splayed fingers.

This was bad.

She blinked away the orbs quickly, a shot of fear-induced adrenaline barreling through her system like a runaway freight train. The light had blinded her, but she was slowly getting her vision back, first the shadows, then the colors, and then finally the shapes. Blurred, yes, but she could at least see enough.

Enough to know she was definitely not at home anymore.

The spires of Metroville's skyscrapers seemed to blast into the sky, shooting into the atmosphere like watchful behemoths over the people that walked along the sidewalk below. Violet watched them as they passed her by, sending her somewhat bemused and sometimes disapproving glances before continuing on their way, briefcases in hand, fedoras on heads, jackets pressed and buttoned in an old time perfection.

Violet struggled to stand, finding support against the outer wall of a nearby building.

"Okay, Violet," she began to mumble to herself, still shaking from her unexpected ordeal and the frightening situation that had now unearthed itself. "Let's try and figure this out. What happened? Did something happen? Something definitely happened."

Of course something happened. What was she doing, standing in the middle of Metroville?

She bet it was that watch. That weird stupid watch had done it all.

Either that or this was some ice cream-induced dream, and she was just sleeping off the load of chunky monkey she'd managed to down earlier that night.

Violet tried to take a step forward, but felt her knees wobble, her equilibrium stripped away from that trip through… whatever the hell that was she'd tripped through. She'd almost fell back onto the pavement, just able to cling to the building and managing to bash her head against the brick in the process.

Well, _that_ felt pretty real. As far as she knew, not even Ben and Jerry's could do that to you.

Rubbing at a sore spot, she tried without much avail to sort through the mix of thoughts that swirled through her whirl-pooling brain. The watch, the stupid watch…

Violet finally felt a lump in one of her hands. Propping herself up against the wall, she looked down at her hands, opening the fingers up slowly to look inside.

The watch sat in her palm, staring up at her with that innocent face.

Which, was now, very, very blank.

"Criminy," she muttered through clenched teeth. Stupid life and its open windows. Seems she managed to get herself through and only to end up knee high in trouble.

Violet played around with the watch's buttons as she had before, desperately trying to get some reaction on the display.

Nothing

Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, _nothing!_

She felt a scream urging up from her chest into her throat, but someone beat her to it. Violet turned swiftly, problems momentarily forgotten as a shriek tore through the city air, displacing the passing traffic and the sounds of chatter with its shrillness and clarity. Suddenly, a blast of fire headed down the street, catching a number of cars in its wake. More screams added to the first, an intermingling of male and female voices rising up in cacophony against the sudden catastrophe that had fallen upon them.

Violet saw a man fly along the city streets, his insane cackles echoing up against the surrounding buildings, blazing red cape trailing behind him along with a flash of flame that propelled him through the air.

"The Morning Star strikes again!" he yelled out, turning down a corner and blasting another beastly flare at a building, which quickly caught fire amid a dozen more screams. Violet watched as the villain zoomed away, and she felt that heroic resolve coming up past the new problems and hiding them away.

Forget that stupid watch and what it had done. For now, Incredigirl was needed.

* * *

**Yup, that's the end. Next chapter, some familiar faces gon' pop up. Can't wait until then. haha! See you all later. Read and Review! **


	3. The Morning Star

**Author's Note:**** HOLY CRAP, THIS CHAPTER IS LOOONG. It's about twice the size of my last chapter, I think, so I'm _incredibly _sorry to those people who don't like long chapters. It's probably because of the fight scenes and crap like that, so I really REALLY apologize for the length of the chapter. I just got so into it! ACTUALLY, I cut off the story before I actually wanted to and replaced the ending sequences into the beginning of the fourth chapter just to shorten this one. SO, technically, I already started on the fourth chapter. Good for you! haha!**

** ANYWAY, The Morning Star is my own character, and I hope he didn't come off as stupid because I made him so strong. He was fun to make in my head, and I really wanted an actual supervillain that would be hard to fight and everything... Even though it IS an early chapter. What must the climax be like then? OMG. HAHA! Just kidding. But seriously, I love morning star, but I don't know how you people would react to him...**

** SO TELL ME! Read and Review! No flames, please; they hurt.**

* * *

** Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except the plot and the Morning Star. Sooo... you no sue. Please. **

* * *

Violet sped into an alleyway, identity secure in the shadows and the fact that all eyes seemed glued to the building that had exploded into flames across the newly charred street. It didn't take long to strip down into her super suit, which she'd luckily left on underneath her civilian clothing, with her mask and gloves tucked safely into the voluminous pockets of her cargoes. Pretty lucky of me to have everything with me, Violet had thought vaguely at that time, but the necessity of the situation pushed away all wandering thinkings and kept her mind traveling down the narrow thought process of a superhero.

Get into costume.

Chase down bad guy.

Fight.

Win.

And keep all those screaming civilians safe in the process, she added decidedly, testing out a small force field in her hand for good measure.

She slipped on her mask and bundled up her normal clothes with a practiced ease, tying them into a sturdy ball before she raced out of the alley. Violet took a swift look around, catching sight of an inconspicuous and unharmed plant box nearby, and, making sure no one was looking still, managed to stuff her clothes beneath and behind the leaves of a bush. She tugged on her gloves, looking determinedly down the street that the Morning Star (as the villain had proclaimed himself) had flown down just moments before.

"Somebody call the fire department; there are people in there!"

Violet's concentration snapped for a moment, shifted to the blazing building. She'd nearly forgotten about it. She made a rush to the other side of the street, catching attention to her red super suit along the way, stopping before the licking flames as they continued to rage and spread. She stared up at them from her spot on the sidewalk below, trying her best to figure what she should do.

And then she realized…

What _could_ she do? Her powers had nothing against fire; her force fields would protect against them sure, but putting them out was a completely different story. She thought about maybe cutting off the oxygen supply to the flames, but that would take one hell of a force field, and the oxygen the fire needed was the same oxygen needed by the people trapped inside. She would probably not only end up suffocating them in the process, but baking them like potatoes in an oven.

A few seconds into this new mission, and she already felt the pressure. Violet was in over her head. What should she do?

She heard a shriek amongst the cackling flames inside. Screams for help. No squeal of sirens audible in the vicinity. No one else to help but her.

No one.

Violet stiffened her upper lip. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and stuffing away that gnawing doubt and pessimism that had started taking root in her mind.

She was seen running into the front door of the building seconds later, disappearing into the rising smoke and roaring flames amidst the gasps and screams of bystanders.

"Who _is_ that?"

"Crazy kid, she's gonna get killed!"

People passed comments amongst themselves, eyes glued to the building as the fire only seemed to intensify. Moments went by, accompanied by the shrieks of onlookers and the screams of the growing fire, the begging of those lost within it muffled and choked by the smoke and flames. No sign of the mystery girl. No sign of the fire going out.

Whatever time they had seemed lost.

Suddenly, a crash of glass from above.

They watched as the mysterious red girl leapt from the top floor, shards of the window she'd broken through flying around her body, shimmering red from the fire. Seconds after, a group of people followed behind, some with unconscious slung over their shoulders or in their arms. Each held onto each other with desperate hands as they began their plummet, their screams rising high above the heads of the bystanders, mingling with those that shot upward from those that watched below.

"They jumped!"

The crowd watched as the victims fell closer toward the asphalt from the top floor. The screams grew louder. The ground came nearer.

Women covered their children's faces. People covered their own eyes and awaited the inevitable splatter of bodies against the sidewalk.

They must've given up on escaping.

There was no way they'd be able to survive that fall.

Violet's eyes stared onto the fast-approaching black of the street, concentrating deeply as the distance began to close. She had to move fast; any miscalculation and she could lose not only her life but the lives of those who trailed only feet behind her. She could hear a muffle of screams beyond her strained focus and knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that these people were _counting _on her.

The ground sped up at her like a large black freight train. Violet concentrated on the moment, on the texture of the rushing ground, on the distance that dissipated with every millisecond. Violet crooked her fingers readily. Just a bit closer…

Suddenly, she caught herself in a field, the purple shimmer stopping her fall short and saving her from that seemingly inevitable splatter against the asphalt. She hovered for only a second before she let the barrier go. She landed unceremoniously on the ground, and, ignoring the pain, she twisted herself over onto her back and, with time ticking away swiftly in her head, pushed her hands up toward the mass of falling people she now was rocketing down toward her.

Her eyes closed. Her fingers stretched. Energy crackled through her hands.

She heard the screams as they descended upon her, and then the abrupt silence that followed, thick, awkward, and questioning. Nothing but the spitting of the unheeding fire bothered the silence.

Slowly, Violet opened her eyes, body stiff with apprehension, unknowing of what had happened. Whether or not her plan had worked, she didn't know; all she had to do was look.

She felt her heart flutter excitedly as the group sat suspended above her, wrapped up in the flickers of her force field and looking incredibly stupefied. It seemed they had yet to completely understand what had occurred and wondered why exactly they hadn't liquefied against the ground like bugs on a windshield. By all means, they'd expected it when they followed the girl out of the window as she'd told them to. Especially when she'd fallen as well instead of flown.

But here they were, hovering feet above the ground in some strange purple orb, unnoticing of the nearby bewildered crowd. They only saw the girl in red, their savior (though the idea hadn't completely clicked in their brains just yet), with that relieved smile on her face, as she guided them to the ground with a soft and measured movement of her hands.

The crowd, quieted by the sudden rescue, started up again, this time their screams replaced by cheers. A few clapped, and others jumped up and down in unconcealed excitement. Violet felt a blush heat up her face, but attempted to maintain her composure, blinking out the field around those she'd saved so that they landed painlessly onto the then car-less street. Most of the remained seated on the ground, still caught up in the shock and excitement of their near death experience and last minute rescue, the few others who managed to get onto their feet quivering from lost equilibrium.

Violet took a deep breath, absorbing the slight celebration that sounded around her. She'd done it. She'd rescued these people.

A small but deafening explosion brought everyone back to the situation at hand. Debris shot from the blazing building, wood and brick flung out as newer, bigger flames erupted upward, engulfing the upper levels with its howl of destruction. Violet brought up another barrier as the wreckage tumbled downward, saving bystanders from injury.

Violet looked up at the fire, remembering her dilemma. She had to stop the flames somehow… the fire had grown a great deal since the Morning Star had started it, and now she didn't know if her earlier strategy of cutting off the oxygen supply would be _possible_. She hadn't developed her powers enough to maintain a field that large long enough to suffocate the inferno.

She shook her head, returning her attention to those who sat dumbfounded before her, staring up at the flames as they danced hellishly on the plaster and stone, reaching up into the smoke-blackened sky like demonic fingers groping for heaven.

"Get out of here," she told them, motioning to the areas away from the fire. "It's not safe."

The group nodded, those who could walk and weren't burdened under the unconscious helped others onto their feet, and soon enough the group had relocated to a safer location. Violet was left standing alone in the center of the street, staring intensely up at the building as the flames continued to eat away at its structure. Her lips tightened determinedly, her fingers crooking rhythmically as she prepared for her attempt.

She took a step forward, bringing her hands to the ready in front of her.

"Alright," she muttered. "Three, two…"

Suddenly, a stream of white sprayed down from above her head, dousing a number of flames and leaving a layer of ice shining on the side of the building. Violet looked up as a shadow passed above her, the sun blocked out by a familiar bridge of ice. It evaporated after a moment, leaving nothing but vapor and a slight shower of cold water (which Violet fielded out effectively), and Violet saw, with a flash of relief, as her father's old friend Frozone slid his way down beside her.

"Looks like you need some help," he quipped, glancing at her for a moment before sending another stream shooting from his hands onto the structure before them.

"Got that right," Violet replied, her tone obviously thankful. Now that she had Frozone to assist her, this endeavor would be easier with his help, especially since his powers seemed made specifically to battle this sort of situation. Turning back with a new resolve, she lifted her hands, trapping a large amount of fire within her field and shrinking it down to nothing.

"That's gonna take forever," Frozone remarked. He formed another bridge, this one heading upward, and he began to run up its length, jumping of the end and beginning to create another bridge as a curved, metal shield formed beneath his feet. "Let me take care of this!" he yelled down to her.

Violet shrugged her shoulders, acceding. He was better suited for this job than she was. She didn't want to get in the way. He continued to create bridges, sliding along the ice with his new board, killing more and more fire as he passed by, layering ice onto the flames.

Violet watched as he worked hard, but knew that even though her method took forever, his method wasn't exactly the fastest method on earth. The building was large and so were the flames, and they managed to grow despite his efforts.

Violet looked down the road, where she'd seen the Morning Star disappear. She furrowed her brow, and looked back up to where Frozone worked diligently at the fire, and wondered whether or not she should leave him to pursue the villain. Who knew how many buildings the man had set on fire while they'd worked on this single one, how many people died and are dying?

The fire at the top floors had extinguished completely after a few minutes, and all that remained blazed on the lower levels. Frozone swung downward on his self-made bridge, passing by with a faltering spurt of frost before pulling back his board and landing onto the sidewalk. He was sweating, seemingly exhausted. Violet couldn't blame him.

"Are you okay?" she asked, tripping over debris as she made her way to his side.

"Fine, fine," he assured her. He rolled his shoulders, and then held his palm out, creating a layer of ice over the street. He faced it, as if he was going to leave, but then stopped. "You're a superhero, right?" he asked, looking at her for a moment.

Violet furrowed a brow, wondering why the man would ask her something like that. He _knew_ she was a superhero; in fact, he'd done missions with her family before hand.

But, Violet just nodded. Who knew what that watch did to her exactly, where it had sent her, or when, for that matter. Noon. That's as far as she could figure; she guessed that maybe the thing had sent her into noon the next day and her dad had told the guy about the Epoch incident. When he meant "superhero" he probably meant that she'd matured. Or something like that. Whatever it was, now wasn't the time to worry about it.

"Yes," she said in reply.

Frozone motioned for her to follow. "Then let's go!"

He started skating down the path he'd made, and Violet hurried as best as she could after him, not at all as fast as him. "But, what about the fire?" she asked, struggling to keep pace with the speed skater.

"Don't worry. Saw a fire truck coming round the corner while I was up there; they'll be fine. Trust me!"

He continued for a moment, then paused, sliding along the path and coming to a stop. Violet rushed up to him; it seemed he was waiting for her to catch up.

"Do you _run_ to every crime scene?" he asked, continuing beside her with a considerably slower pace. Violet continued to jog along, pursing her lips as this somewhat disbelieving and sarcastic tone.

"Whenever I'm alone, yes," she replied tersely, focusing on the road, following the char marks that streaked black along the sidewalks and buildings.

She heard Frozone groan, and she looked away embarrassedly, self-conscious that she hadn't any powers useful to that respect. She knew that she was probably getting in the way for him, and, though she couldn't really do anything about it, she felt bad and humiliated.

"Hey. Get on my back."

Violet, shocked, looked back at Frozone, who had stopped on his bridge, looking somewhat uncomfortable himself but determined nevertheless.

"What?" she asked.

"We ain't got time to run from place to place," he told her bluntly. "Now, I saw you with those people over there, and we could use your help with this bozo. Now, get on my _back_."

Violet approached tentatively, Frozone getting onto his knees so that she'd have easier access.

"Are you sure?" she asked, stopping before getting on.

"I was the one who told you to get on, didn't I?" he asked, his tone a little impatient, but still retaining that cool friendliness Lucius Best was known for. Violet nodded, slipping her arms around his neck and wrapping her legs around his waist. "You're a stick anyway," Frozone assured her, laughing slightly as he threw another layer of ice onto the ground and started speeding along the road. "Don't weigh anything. Now hold on tight, this is gonna be fast."

Violet clung onto the older super as he raced along the way, following the burnt remains of trees and cars that marked the Morning Star's destructive path. Luckily, he hadn't set any other buildings on fire as he did earlier, giving the two an opportunity to catch up with him, wherever he was now. Violet concluded that he must've gotten far since she'd seen him last, but noted the speed of Frozone's pursuit and figured they might have a chance.

The char marks were getting darker, and the smoke thicker. Morning Star was closer, and, it seemed, a lot more desperate.

"Could mean another super's got him on the radar," Frozone remarked as they turned a corner. "We're almost there. You ready, kid?"

Violet was silent for a moment, trying to gather a concrete feeling in her fluttering stomach. She couldn't find one. "I think so," she managed to mutter out, trying her best to sound brave despite the weakness of her feeling.

"Let's hope you do…." Frozone muttered. Violet noted the sarcasm in his voice and once again she felt helpless in this endeavor. Here she was, clinging to the back of some older superhero, like a baby to its babysitter. The capability she'd felt during the Epoch fight and the successful rescue of those trapped in the burning building slowly began to slip away, and Violet found herself desperately trying to keep herself from falling back into that little girl super that she'd been back in the time of the Syndrome escapade.

Silence fell between the two, broken only by Frozone's occasional grunts of effort as he moved through the strangely empty city streets (probably unofficially evacuated when the Morning Star had streaked through the area) and the scrape of his boots as they carved their way through the ice he formed on the asphalt. Violet kept her eyes glued on the markings of the villain's passing: the thinning smoke rising up gray into the now hazy sky, the blackened remains of cars and sidewalks, smoldering debris scattered over the white lines like fall leaves on some forest floor.

But her head remained on the lost determination. If she felt like a baby riding piggy back like she did, she wondered if Frozone regarded her as one too. She couldn't believe how insubstantial she felt then, no longer the celebrated heroine saving people from some building fire as she clung to someone who had probably done that same thing hundreds of times over. Nothing like having someone to compare yourself with to make you feel insignificant.

"What's your superhero name anyway?"

Violet snapped from her heavy thoughts. "Huh?"

"Just wondering," Frozone shrugged, eyes still on his path. Violet saw the corner of a smile stretch out onto his cheek. "Guess I wanna know the name of the girl riding my back."

Violet giggled a bit, tucking the thoughts into the corner of her mind to collect dust. Frozone was acting weird at the moment, but she guessed he could feel what thoughts went through her head; the man had quite an intuition.

Her superhero name… had he expected her to stake claim to a new one?

"It's Incredigirl," she told him, unable to invent any other one.

"Incredigirl?" Frozone almost sounded like he was scoffing the alias.

"Yeah." Violet wrinkled her nose, feeling embarrassed without really knowing why. She continued, shrugging her shoulders. "Temporarily, until I think of a better name, I guess," she added, not wanting to sound stupid.

"Hope that comes soon." Frozone smirked, shaking his head as if the disbelief had yet to pass. "Huh. Incredigirl."

Violet noticed the grin on his face with one of her own. "What? Is there something wrong with Incredigirl?" she asked, laughing a little with her words. She knew completely that Incredigirl sounded ridiculous, little nothing more than a rip off of her family's set super-name. She'd spent a lot of time musing over a new one, really, but she hadn't found one that wasn't taken or didn't sound corny beside all reason.

"There's nothing wrong with Incredigirl." Frozone began, glancing back at her with that trademark grin, "that is, if you _really_ want to sound like a sideki—"

Suddenly, a ball of flame exploded down the road from the sky, engulfing the two within seconds before driving into ground and leaving a cracked and smoldering hole in the asphalt. When the smoke dissipated, Frozone and Violet were left unscathed but shaking in the force bubble the girl had managed to generate just milliseconds before the fireball hit. She'd noticed it while Frozone hadn't; he was too busy talking to see it come streaking down at them from the sky. Lucky for them, she'd had time enough to gather her thoughts before the thing had chicken fried them Kentucky-style.

"What was _that_?" Frozone yelled, angry surprise evident in his voice.

Violet blinked out her shield and turned to look behind them, where wisps of dark-gray smoke rose up from the new asphalt-crater. That had really been a close call. Where could the thing have…?

"Incredigirl!"

"Huh?" Violet's head snapped back to the front just in time to see a second fire ball coming straight for them. Everything seemed to slowdown like a carefully watched playback video. Violet couldn't move her hands, couldn't produce a new shield no matter how hard her shock-boggled brain commanded her to. The fireball came closer, red-hot, burning… The energy refused to crackle through her fingers; her body refused to listen to her brain. The only thing she could do was open her mouth and scream as the fire loomed ever closer.

Seconds later she found herself flying out of the way, the tips of her hair singed as she streaked from the projectile's route, time snapping back into reality. Frozone apparently had better reaction time than she did; he'd managed to leap away from death seconds before it came, dragging Violet along, still clinging desperately to his back. The two tumbled along the debris and tarmac, grunting with every collision. Along the way, Violet lost her grip and found herself finally off of the older super's back, rolling to a stop propped up against the curb, half-jammed in a gutter. Frozone came to a more unceremonious halt: he flung himself flat as a pancake up against a brick building. He landed in a groaning heap onto the sidewalk.

Violet sat up from the gutter with a discomfited moan, rubbing at a bump she felt throbbing on the side of her head. The moment she felt the burn of the bruises fading, she slapped herself inwardly, inner voice yelling at the top of its lungs. You idiot! Letting yourself get distracted while obviously under attack! And Frozone could've gotten hurt too! If he didn't move when he did…

Violet looked behind her to where she'd heard Frozone land. He had one hand propping him up against the brick wall, but he was up nonetheless, looking unscathed and standing despite shaking knees. Violet sighed in relief. Well, at least they'd both survived.

Yeah, no thanks to her.

"Darn, I can't believe I missed!"

Violet's eyes shot up to the sky, the loud, high voice drawing her attention away from the throbs of new bruises. The Morning Star floated almost two stories into the sky, a small jet of flame hissing out from the heels of slightly-singed brown boots. Violet was sure it was him; she hadn't caught much of a sight when he'd streaked past her before setting that building on fire, but she recognized the voice and the frayed red cape that now flapped like a torn leather wing in the smoke rising from surrounding damage.

From her point on the ground she could make out a little more about the villain. Pasty white skin resembling unbaked cookie dough, unruly black hair that fell in messy waves down the side of his thin face, a painfully self-assured expression. His clothes looked strangely normal; he wore nothing more than a dirty button up shirt and pair of desert camos, both which clashed horribly with the practically glowing red cape that seemed added as an afterthought, only put on to maintain the clichéd super villain image of the man in a cape. Beside that, the only thing that screamed super villain about the pyromaniac was the goatee that came to a sharp point at the end of his chin.

Even though he'd attacked them, his attention wasn't on them.

"Mr. Incredible!" she heard Frozone hiss. He'd regained his composure, and stood in his usual tall and confident stance, but his face had twisted into a mixture of shock and anger. Violet scrambled out of the gutter, hurrying over to his side, eyes following the path set out by his own visor-ed gaze.

Violet clapped a gloved hand over her mouth, muffling a stunned gasp. It was Mr. Incredible alright. But not the one she knew in person.

This one was younger, skinnier, a familiar blue costume forming around the curves of his bulging muscles. Definitely more hair and definitely more handsome, despite the obvious injuries he sustained at that moment, signified by burns marks and scratches. She'd seen this man before, this Mr. Incredible. She'd seen him staring down from walls, framed in gold, smiling from old photographs and newspaper clippings, seen his blue costume set up in glass, glowing with the dim lights of a private study.

It was her father.

But… not yet.

At the moment, he was panting deeply, crouched guardedly before the damaged front of some high-rise building. He looked tired, as if he'd been fighting for a while, and as far as she could tell, he was in desperate need of some help.

Violet tried to replace the pieces that had fallen from her brain in that moment of initial shock. She thought she'd time traveled to the future, noon the next day, as she thought she'd set the stupid watch… it took her a moment to remember the date setting, the one she'd impatiently ignored, at the date blinking away, preset… and nearly sixteen years removed of her time.

Sixteen years! Into the past!

And, she remembered with a sudden gulp, the watch that had done it all, that had hurled her backwards in time, that now sat in a pocket of her cargo pants, bundled up beneath some bush leaves… _Didn't. Work._

She was drawn from her thoughts with the shock of another fireball collision, this one rippling out from several yards ahead of where she and Frozone stood, where Mr. Incredible had been. The smoke and dust blown up from the hit drifted chokingly in the air for a moment before fading into a slight haze. Mr. Incredible was nowhere to be seen.

"That was way too easy," the Morning Star said, sounding suspicious. For good reason. He narrowly managed to dodge a car flying toward him at high velocity from behind, and with an excited grunt, he turned round, tossing another jet of high-temperature flame at Mr. Incredible.

Frozone leapt into action, diverting the flame with a high-powered stream of ice and turning it into a mist of hot steam. Morning Star let out an animalistic growl, his attention switching with added ferocity to the ice super, his polar opposite in appearance and power.

"Take a break, Incredible," Frozone said, standing in front of his super-friend with a shooing hand-gesture. Mr. Incredible gave him a relieved but battle-worn glance, and backed up against the building behind to re-gather his strength.

"I was waiting for you!" the villain yelled out, his white hands seemingly catching flame. In near unseeable movements, Morning Star flung down a volley of fireballs, all of which Frozone had speed enough to dodge or freeze. Frustrated, the villain continued his attack with another barrage, with the same results. The way his face was twisting made it obvious he didn't like what direction the fight had found.

"Can't do any better than that, can you, hot head?" Frozone asked, laughing. He jetted out another ice bridge, his metal board reforming at his feet, and skated around the villain, continually evading attempted assaults with agile ease.

Violet watched quietly, only glancing at the fight from the corner of her eyes. She knew Frozone had the ability to deal with the situation; what bothered her now was sneaking around the edge of the street, looking for another car to throw while his friend fought the battle. Her father… her younger father… what was she going to do now? What if he saw her? Could this somehow mess up the time/space continuum like those television shows that flowed out from the Science Fiction community?

Maybe she should run. Hide while no one was looking.

But what kind of super would that make her? Running away when a super pyromaniac was loose on the city, when her father (even though he wasn't her father yet) looked worn out and obviously needed help?

Her gaze returned to the fight, where Frozone still continued to best the foe. Didn't seem he needed help; the situation seemed pretty in control to her. No, what was she thinking? She couldn't possibly be thinking about running away. What about that determination she'd felt; what about being a _superhero_?

Suddenly, the Morning Star stopped, one hand grabbing at the edge of his cape. Violet felt her skin prickle, sensing the sudden surge of collecting energy as it electrified the air. Her eyes widened; she had a feeling that something bad was going to…

"Eat this!"

His hands flung outward in a wild arc, casting forward a roaring fire that ignited a twenty yard stretch of air before him. Frozone yelled, surprised at the monster attack as it barreled toward him. Violet gasped as his white and blue form disappeared in the screaming flames.

The flames dissolved into ash, which fell like blackened snowflakes from the sky. And with them fell Frozone, a spray of white still hissing from his palms. Smoke lifted up into the air like clouds, taking long moments to clear before revealing the super lying on the dust-covered black top. He'd managed to salvage his life by creating a continuous shield of ice while the fire seared along, but it hadn't kept the fire from eating at the oxygen around him, or from eating through the parts of the shield farthest away from his palms. In the end, the endeavor had drained his energy levels, and left his legs and the sides of his body badly singed. He'd landed on his back, knocking the wind straight from him.

Violet heard his gasps for breath from her spot feet away and cringed; she could've helped him if she'd moved.

"Frozone!" Mr. Incredible shouted, rushing from his spot over to his downed friend. He propped the black man up with a careful hand, and Frozone winced from the sudden sharpness of pain that surged through his scalded body.

"Gotta be a little careful, Incredible," he croaked through clenched teeth. "I ain't made of titanium."

Mr. Incredible put his friend back onto the ground, standing up in his spot with a renewed determination. "You're going down!"

"You sound upset!" Morning Star said with a cackle. "Did you want some too?"

His hand went up once again, clutching dramatically at the edge of his cape so that the tattered red cloth hung before his face like Count Dracula. The upsurge of energy once again crackled like static through the smoke-filled air, and Mr. Incredible watched with a look of shock and horror as a fiery red glow radiated from behind the drape of the cloak, beginning to wash over the Morning Star's pale face.

"Uh oh," he muttered, taking a short moment to look dumbfounded, different strategies and tactics rushing through his busy mind without leaving much of an imprint. He didn't have time to stop the Morning Star's attack; the villain's height proved too great a distance for Incredible to jump, and nothing but crumbled and smoking debris lay strewn across the urban battlefield, the big enough pieces too far away to grab and throw in time.

Nothing to do, he surmised, but run like hell.

He turned round, scooping up Frozone as quickly as possible, ignoring the shocked yelp and grumble, as he ran across the strip of rubble-cluttered city street, working his sore muscles to their limit as he forced himself to run as fast as he possibly could.

"Man, put me down!" Frozone complained. "I'm not a girl!"

"You can't run, not in your condition!" Mr. Incredible told him sternly, his voice taut from the muscular strain he could feel shooting up his calves and thighs. His grip on Frozone tightened, partly from the new surge of electricity that jolted along his skin and partly to allay some of the ache of his legs. Morning Star was one hell of a villain; this was their first encounter with him and already he'd incapacitated Frozone, stretched Incredible out almost to the limit of his physical abilities, and at the moment was coming very close to killing the both of them. He couldn't believe the predicament they'd found themselves in. "It's either this way or die! Your pick!"

"If we survive, you are _not_ telling anyone about this," Frozone mumbled, glancing back to where the Morning Star still floated in the air with the red glow growing ever more intense beyond his cape.

"Deal!" Incredible hissed, growling at the "if." His teeth clenched tight enough to crack, the grind of the compressing enamel vibrating through his head. Keep moving, Incredible, as fast as you can, keep moving. Get behind that building, get Frozone and yourself to safety, as fast as you can, Incredible, as fast as you freaking _can_!

The roar of approaching flames detonated throughout the smoke-thick air, and Mr. Incredible could almost see his life come to an end. He continued to run closer to where the road met another, to where a building's corner stood as the only sanctuary from a burning death. But he sensed the futility of it all, felt his muscles giving up, felt his pace slow down. He glanced back at the flames one final time as they rolled over the asphalt, a two story high infernal wave, ready to wash over and swallow them in a single furious gulp.

Frozone peeked over Incredible's shoulder, watching with the same awe and dread as the wall loomed above them like a red-hot tsunami. He lifted a hand up, palm outward, and sent a desperate spray of ice at the wave, watching with fear as it did little more than dissipate into a hiss of steam.

"It's no use, buddy," Mr. Incredible muttered, his grip tightening on Frozone as his hope gave way beneath the weight of reality. "Just hold on."

His eyes closed, and he held Frozone closer, guarding the damaged super with his own body. The heat came at him like a sudden desert wind, sucking into the flames, drawing them in.

A moment later, his senses were taken up by fire. He felt the heat, saw the red light as it pressed up against his thin eyelids, heard the roar of the flames, the crackle of burning air. No pain. Not yet anyway. He curved his body over his friends, trying to better guard him against the onslaught. At least one of them had to survive this. Even if it wasn't him.

Morning Star floated with a crooked smile taking his moon-pale face, a joyful spectator to the flaming show that happened before him. He'd worked hard for it, perfected his powers since he'd discovered them. It had started off as normal pyromania, acknowledged only to sate the desire to see things burn and shrivel amongst the tufts of rising flames. He'd definitely grown a little past that point, adding greed and revenge to his reasoning, but he still felt the same pleasure of a good fire. Especially if it had some first-class fuel to burn.

The wall of flame began to die, leaving nothing but a heavy veil of smoke shadowing the battle-scarred street. Morning Star smiled, smelling the sharp scent of the ashes as they fluttered through the fogged air. He floated above for a moment, waiting for the hazy screen to fall a bit before willing the flame beneath his feet smaller, lowering himself smoothly to the now dusty asphalt.

Meanwhile, Mr. Incredible had finally realized that the fire had completely gone. He no longer felt the inferno engulfing his senses. The sounds had died out, the light had become dim and colorless. Slowly, his eyes opened, his grip on Frozone beginning to soften as his head lifted up to see the world.

He'd survived. No fire, only smoke… but how?

Frozone began to laugh. "I can't believe it," he said, staring up to where the smoke floated by their heads.

Incredible followed his gaze, not completely understanding. A moment later, he noticed a shimmer of purple against the ash clouds, along with the sudden realization that they were breathing clean air; the purple wall he now noticed seemed to keep the smoke away from them. A forcefield, he surmised. But how?

"Way to go, Incredigirl!" Frozone exclaimed, whooping loud and still laughing with relief.

"Incredigirl?" Mr. Incredible inquired, one eyebrow floating up his forehead. He looked at his friend questioningly. "What in the world are you talking abou—"

"Are you guys alright?"

Mr. Incredible nearly jumped out of his super suit in surprise. A whisper of a young girl's voice had spoken nearby.

"We're doing fine, Incredigirl," Frozone replied, sounding strangely calm to Incredible considering that no matter how hard he looked he couldn't see anyone nearby. Could be the smoke, but he doubted it. "Nice job on the forcefield," his friend continued, talking to the unseen stranger. "Sure saved our butts back there."

"No problem."

Mr. Incredible continued to search the area around them, where the field kept the smoke at bay, able to hear the tinny echo of her voice and knowing she was in there with them.

"Was wondering if you were ever gonna jump in," Frozone said, laughing slightly.

"Zone, who are you talking to?" Incredible had given up on his search and decided to openly admit it; he felt stupid, but he didn't like being out of the loop. "Where is she? Is she invisible?" He twisted his neck a bit, staking a final cursory glance at their surroundings before turning back to his friend with a bemusedly quizzical look.

Frozone kept quiet, his own expression taking on a surprised look, as if he'd just realized that the girl he spoke too was nowhere to be seen. "Good question," he said after taking his own look around them.

"Yeah, I am for now," the girl responded. They could hear a little embarrassed giggle shaking on the edge of her voice. "Another power of mine. I don't want the bad guy seeing me just yet."

Mr. Incredible absorbed the information, letting it run through his mind and trying to fit it into the situation. They had an invisible girl on their team now, making a stealth attack possible. If they played their cards just right the chances of defeating the Morning Star had just shot up from absolute zero. He felt the relief and delight in their newfound possibility pushing the immediate pain from his consciousness.

"This could work!" he said suddenly, an excited smile splitting his strong face. "Stay invisible, we might need your assistance again, Miss…" His voiced trailed off, the name he'd heard earlier now buried under the fresh wave of anticipation. "I'm sorry, what was your…"

"Incredigirl," she replied.

"Incredigirl!" Mr. Incredible exclaimed, a thoroughly unimpressed look taking his features. When he'd first heard it, the shock of his actual survival had taken first priority in his brain, and the name didn't have time to register enough for him to think anything of it. But _now! _"What kind of a name is—"

"You don't know her?" Frozone cut in, his own voice jolting with surprise. "Man, I thought she was your sidekick or something!"

"Sidekick?" Incredible looked at Frozone disapprovingly. "Don't kid me! I work alone."

"Yeah, you did a good job working alone back there before me and Incredigirl here came to save your butt!"

"She sounds more like _your_ sidekick to me!" Incredible retorted.

"What!" Frozone snapped. "I don't _need_ a sidekick, you—"

"Stop it, guys!" The girl's voice broke into the meandering fight, sounding stern despite its accompanying apprehension, as if she felt out of place talking to them like a mother to her children. But, it got the job done, Incredible and Frozone's bickering coming to an end, leaving the two older supers feeling and looking like chastised sons. "The smoke is beginning to cheer," Incredigirl continued, her voice falling back into a discreet whisper. "I'm shutting down my field."

"Alright," Incredible said, nodding to Frozone. "I think I have a plan…"

Morning Star began to amble down the black street to where he'd seen the two supers engulfed in his fire, the villain once in a while lifting his face to the falling ash as if it were snow. With his hands tucked behind his back and a carefree jump in every step of his jaunt, the villain exuded a victor's conceit. He'd won, and he knew he had. All he wanted now was to see the charred remains of Metroville's best lying on and covered by the ashes of _his_ fire.

Slowly, the smoke began to clear, drifting up into the sky, staining the atmosphere gray. The smile widened on his face. Soon.

He stopped several yards before Incredible and Frozone's final resting spot, his expression shifting slowly from the self-possessed grin to a suspicious squint-eyed stare. He could make out something, a figure, he supposed, silhouetted in the thinning smoke, standing calmly.

Calmly and, Morning Star noted, unscathed. His eyes narrowed ever the more as the smoke began to fade, doing his best to make out more of the character, the supposed victory beginning to stink of suspicion, leaving him lost in focus as the silhouette began to fill in.

And leaving him susceptible to a blast of ice shooting like a bullet from the still rising smoke.

Morning Star managed to catch himself before he'd become encrusted, bringing up his red cloak before him as he'd done earlier, this time to shield his skin from the sudden attack.

He watched as a spiked layer of frost began to harden on his cape, his heart pumping with adrenaline once again. "Ice," he hissed in hatred. His eyes snapped back to the cloudy area before him, the shadows now clear and colored, looking cocky despite their obvious injuries.

"Got that right," Frozone said, one corner of his mouth quirked up in a smug grin.

Something hard to maintain when you were cradled like a baby in the arms of a large man.

Realizing this Frozone squirmed in Incredible's grip. "Man, put me down! This ain't right!"

Incredible quickly obliged, mumbling out a quick "geez" as Frozone's feet touched the ground. The super wobbled for a moment, pain racing up his singed legs. But, nevertheless, he found his stance and maintained it, hands finding his hips, the grin replacing itself on his dark face.

Morning Star's grimace deepened to a truly hateful level. Of all supers in this city, the only one he truly despised beyond any reasoning or doubt, was _him_. His motives existed beyond the usual villain-hero relationship, though this meeting marked their first encounter. It rested in the eternal opposition of fire and ice, the unchanging polarity marked since the beginning of time. Ice existed as the Morning Star's only _true_ weakness besides being mortal; one touch of ice to his skin and…

His arm arched down from its spot before his face, the whip of the cloth shattering the rime from his cloak.

"I don't know how you survived," he said, igniting the fire beneath his feet, slowly rising up from the dusty street, "but it won't last much longer."

"Oh no you don't!"

Frozone shot his hand out again, another blast of ice rocketing from his palms. Noting the assault with a shriek, Morning Star landed back onto the street standing, attention ripped from his beginning flight to the frozen attack. His own palms shot out, catching the beam of ice with one of fire, neutralizing it midway to its destination. But, Frozone only continued his attack, pushing more and more ice up against the fire. Morning Star followed suit, sweating from the steam.

The villain's concentration preoccupied, Mr. Incredible took the opportunity to rush at him like a charging rhinoceros. The villain caught sight of him just before he'd made his hit, and desperately shot one fiery hand at him. Mr. Incredible had to leap out of the way. Morning Star had cut his attack strength in half to halt Mr. Incredible's assault, giving Frozone the chance to get his own strike closer to the pyromaniac. He pushed further in, increasing the velocity of his spray so that his ice turned to steam feet closer in the Morning Star's direction.

Incredible had leapt out of the way, but he hadn't given up. He turned again, this time behind the evil super, and began another charge, arm lifted up high above his head, ready to punch.

The Morning Star realized his problem, beads of sweat trickling down his face, both from apprehension and the steam rising from the ever-nearer beam of ice. He had to incapacitate one of them enough to buy him some time, otherwise he'd end up dead or injured one way or the other. He began to force more flame through the one hand dealing with Frozone, feeling the heat rise beneath his fire-proof skin as he pushed the limits of his hands to the very edge, nearing injury. His attention stayed gripped on Mr. Incredible, whose charge began to close in, that hand seeming heavy in the air as it threatened to come down like a mallet upon Morning Star's head.

He ignored the fear that fluttered in his heart and stomach. He needed to be precise.

Just as Mr. Incredible began to swing that punch, Morning Star yelled, a fireball bursting from his hand and catching the super square in the chest. It shot him backwards like a rocket until he smashed into a wall, rendering him unconscious before dissipating.

Taking only a moment to celebrate this victory with a happy growl, he turned back to Frozone and restarted his assault.

Frozone began to develop his own problems. Not only had Morning Star returned to fight him back fully, but his _own_ powers had started to dwindle down. He'd become exhausted and dehydrated, the pain was messing with his concentration, and the air had become so dry that little to no water could be siphoned from the dust.

In other words he was running out of ice.

And time.

"Not doing so well, are we, Iceman?" Morning Star cackled, sensing the nearness of his victory.

"Doing just fine, _hothead,_" Frozone snapped. Nevertheless, he could feel the frost begin dying at his finger tips, the fire beginning to overtake his attacks. Dammit, he wasn't going to lose to this firebrand. Not if his life depended on it!

Suddenly the fire stopped, just as Frozone exhausted the last of his efforts. His arms fell limp at his side, muscles screaming for relief, and he squatted, breathing hard. What the hell had just happened?

He looked up and for a moment, began to laugh.

There was the Morning Star, looking confused and frightened, trapped inside a purple bubble.

"Good job again, kid," Frozone croaked, rubbing at his arms.

Violet, still invisible, watched as the villain echoed the actions of the Epoch when she'd first caught him. Banging against the force field walls, cursing and demanding, getting nowhere of course. She smiled to herself, a swell of pride rising into a permeating warmth. She'd done it again.

But, it was short lived. Violet wouldn't get the Morning Star without a fight, especially if Frozone and Mr. Incredible couldn't.

He began blasting opposite ends of the bubble. Violet watched first with curiosity as he sent flaming jets shooting out from both sides of his outstretched arms, and then the curiosity crumbled into dread as she felt the beginning strain of a cracking field. She couldn't believe it!

The attacks strengthened, and Violet could sense her barrier beginning to break; quickly, she poured more energy, fortifying the orb. But she could feel the pressure beginning to build.

She hadn't counted on this. Nothing had broken through her orbs since the Omnidroid.

Violet's shields were strong, but they weren't unbreakable. Enough force could shatter the field like a purple egg, rending her unconscious in the process. It had happened once during their fight those months ago with Syndrome's machine; she hadn't been ready for it. And she wasn't ready now. Had Morning Star's attacks come from the outside, maintaining the shield would have been easy. That way, the fire had some place to go, flowing around the field like water. But from the inside, the fire hit the walls at high velocity, having nowhere to go but against the shield itself, creating a much larger amount of concentrated force and threatening to rip her field in two.

Violet poured more energy into the ball, dropping her invisibility for a second to conserve energy. This was not good. At this rate, he'd break through the shield in a few minute's time; she could already feel the shock of it sending her reeling, and it took all the concentration she had apart from the force field to keep her from fainting at the thought. But, letting him go… she couldn't do that either. More people would die, maybe even Frozone, maybe even her _father_. Who knows what would happen?

Her eyes closed, her focus so intense she nearly felt her brain pounding against her skull.

"Incredigirl!"

Violet heard the yell with surprise, opening one eye narrowly to see who'd spoken. Standing across the street, remnants of the smashed wall still evident on the shoulders of his blue costume, was Mr. Incredible.

"What?" she asked with a strained voice.

"Let 'im loose!"

Violet's eyes opened wide in shock. "Are you sure?" she yelled back.

"Positive! Just do it!"

With a strained scream, she released the shield, the pent up fire blasting outward like an explosion. The Morning Star emerged like a beast from hell, clothes not quite as fireproof as his skin curling from the flames that had engulfed him inside the ball.

A moment later, Mr. Incredible's fist had a violet meeting with his jaw, and he was sent flying back against a building, crashing spread-eagle against the stone. He landed in a sitting position on the sidewalk, back pressed up against the wall, chin on his chest, unruly hair falling before his face like a shadow.

"Yes!" Mr. Incredible said through grinning teeth. That should've knocked him unconscious; not a lot of people could take a hit like that, and Morning Star didn't exactly look like a physical type of guy.

But, of course, he was wrong. Morning Star lifted his head, and casting forward a charged shot like the ones he'd attacked Incredible with before but with weaker intensity. The superhero's eyes widened, and he covered his face with his hands as the fire barreled forward.

Incredigirl jumped in front of him at just the right time and formed a shield. The fire blasted harmlessly around them, charring the buildings behind and destroying a fire hydrant sitting innocently on the sidewalk. Water shot up like a geyser into the air, drowning out the smoke and killing the fire.

"This guy's like a cockroach," Mr. Incredible mumbled, voice metallic against the walls of the forcefield. "You can't get rid of him no matter what you try!"

"No," Violet began, watching as the villain attempted to get up and failing. "He's weak right now. All he can do right now is defend himself; we just have to stop him from using fire somehow. He's pretty weak without it."

"How are we going to do that?" Incredible asked.

"Well, knocking him unconscious might work," Incredigirl replied, looking up at him with a smile.

Mr. Incredible looked down at her for a moment, the idea registering in his mind. He returned her smile with a grin of his own, lifting a fist before him like a weapon. "Let's do it, then."

They made a quick approach, Mr. Incredible running like a bull to the red cape with Incredigirl at his side, hands stretched out with a force field curving in front of them. Morning Star, propped up against the wall by only his back and hands, noticed them with horror. The feeling had yet to return to his legs, and his whole body quivered from the strain of just standing up.

The villain formed a hand around a new tuft of flame, and he began frantically tossing barrages of baseball sized fireballs at the approaching duo. They bounced off the purple shield without so much of a flinch from the two supers guarded inside. But he continued to assault them out of desperation, his hands grabbing at smaller flames, his balls thrown in such an unguided frenzy that some even managed to completely miss the field.

They were so close now. Morning Star began to grip at the wall, stopping his attacks to muster up enough concentration for what he had to do now. He felt like a cornered animal, lame and desperate, but he would not let his trapped feeling get the better of him. He needed to focus.

"He stopped attacking," Violet muttered. The two began to slow, suspicious of the sudden calm that seemed to drop out of nowhere in the middle of the battle.

"His eyes are closed," Incredible added. "He might've used up all his energy. Sapped himself unconscious. It happens to Zone every once in a while."

Violet just remembered Frozone, the other super forgotten in all the bustle of the fight. She looked to where she last saw him, watching with both concern and relief as he sat on the ground, rubbing at his hands. She wondered how close he was to draining himself completely of energy; she'd seen him run out of ice before, just as he'd done now, but never had she encountered a situation when the cool and collected man actually pushed himself to that sort of exhaustion.

"Incredigirl, watch out!"

She snapped away from the momentary distraction and finally noticed Morning Star standing directly behind her. He blasted Incredible with a final blast of fire, shooting him several yards away against a pile of rubble, before catching Violet around the throat with burning and angry hands.

"You, my dear, have been a pain in my neck since you arrived," he hissed, his grip tightening with every word.

Violet gasped for air, frantically clawing at his hands, trying to somehow loosen the grip that was slowly killing her.

"I love fire," the man continued, eyes narrowing, smile widening. "I love burning things: trees, buildings, even people. People make the best noises," he added, eyes shining with an insanity that sent chills down Violet's spine. "Trees, buildings, they crackle very nicely. But people… they not only crackle, they snap, pop, and _scream_." He chuckled darkly, grip loosening for a moment to give Violet a single breath before tightening again, harder than before. "But you… oh, you're different. You make me want to squeeze every last bit of life from your stupid, wretched body, and watch you die in my _own_ hands. There's a first time for everything, I suppose. Lucky you."

Violet felt herself beginning to lose consciousness out as the villain's fingers pressed ever harder against her windpipe. Her fighting became flailing, her vision became blurred. She couldn't stop gasping, she couldn't breathe. She was dying. She was _actually _dying…

A scream broke through the air.

It was the Morning Star's. He dropped Violet to the ground to gasp for breath, her mind reeling, a symptom of near-death. She looked up, rubbing at the new bruises around her throat, when she saw, with a shock of surprise, the Morning Star falling to his knees, encased in a layer of ice.

Seconds later, he fell completely to the ground, out cold.

Frozone approached with wobbling legs, the jets of ice still pouring out of his palms as he arrived at Violet's side. He didn't stop cocooning the villain until nothing but his nose and mouth was visible and it began to seem like overkill.

"Get out of that one, hothead," he growled, pulling his hands back. He knelt down by Violet, wrapping an arm around her thin shoulders as she continued to rub at her sore throat. "You okay, Incredigirl?"

"I'm fine," she answered, her voice hoarse. She couldn't stop thinking about those eyes, boring into her brain with an inhuman insanity… the eyes of a supervillain. It had scared her; it still did. Did she have what it took to deal with those sorts of people everyday for the rest of her life?

"That was a close call," Frozone told her, patting her on the back and helping her onto her feet. "If it weren't for that hydrant being knocked loose, I wouldn't have had enough juice to get my ice going, and…"

"I would've died," Violet finished for him. She could feel the tears beginning to form. They'd won, they'd beaten the villain, had him unconscious on the ground, she knew they did, but that single thought ran through her clearing mind.

She could have died.

She _would _have died.

What kind of a super did that?

"Well, I guess you can look at it like that," the older one said, noticing the wetness of her eyes. "But, you didn't, right?" He smiled, patting her on the shoulder and bringing her closer in a half-hug. "You did good, Incredigirl. You did _real_ good."

Violet nodded, looking down at the Morning Star a small smile coming onto her face.

She returned the half-hug. "Thanks."

* * *

**Somehow, after writing this, a flash of Frozone/Incredigirl popped into my head. /twitch/ **

** ANYWAY, I liked writing the character interaction in this chapter. NEXT CHAPTER, though, prepare to meet another familiar character! GUESS WHO! **

**BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, read and review.  
**


	4. Buddy

**Author's Note:**** OKAY, IT'S A LONG CHAPTER AGAIN. I hope you like long Chapters. ::laughs:: ANYWAY, I think I could've written better in this chapter, but I've been sick and things haven't been too great. I swear. Another familiar character is introduced in this chapter! Hope you like it!**

**Read and Review! No flames, please. If you don't like it, don't read it. OR review it. haha!  
**

* * *

**Disclaimer: See firs' chaptah**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Buddy**

* * *

Later, the police had come along with fire department to take the Morning Star back to the NSA's (National Supers Association) special penitentiary, made precisely for supers gone super villain that any normal jail could never hold for long. Frozone went along with them, just to maintain the ice-prison he'd made for the villain along the way and make sure the man didn't try anything stupid. Not that Morning Star could have. It seemed that ice nullified his powers somehow; as long as they put him somewhere nice and frozen, he couldn't do anything.

This left Mr. Incredible and Incredigirl. As usual after every fight, citizens had crawled out from their hiding places to cheer and thank the supers, and Violet found herself facing an admiration she hadn't experienced before during her time in Metroville. Autographs, photographs, enough compliments to make even the most pompous of people blush in modesty… So this was the Golden Age of Supers that she'd always heard about. The Glory Days.

"Incredigirl, though," Mr. Incredible said after the last fan disappeared with Violet's autograph. "Seriously, why _that_ name?"

Violet felt herself cringe at the tone of his voice, feeling that embarrassment rising up inside of her again. "It's only temporary, until I think up a better name," she replied, opting to restate what she'd said to Frozone when he'd asked her earlier.

"Well, okay," the man said, his voice betraying how bothered he still was by the name. "But, seriously, kid, don't you think you could've been, I don't know, a little more original?"

Violet looked up at him, eyebrow cocked.

"I mean," he continued, "it's a rip off of my name, right?"

Violet looked away, rubbing her arm despondently, as if he'd just punched her with his accusation. Because, of course, he was right. "Right," she admitted. "I'm sorry… I'm… uh… not that creative."

"And look at your symbol! It's a lot like mine too!" he said, rant not yet finished. He gestured to the stylized "I" set upon her chest. "I mean, the color scheme's a little different…" his voice trailed off and for a moment, he looked thoughtful. "Well, actually, that's a really nice color scheme… red and black, huh? I'll have to remember next time I see E…" His hand went to his chin, and he tapped his bottom lip. "Or, maybe I shouldn't. That would screw up a lot of my merchandise. Besides, wouldn't want them thinking you were my sidekick, would I, Incredigirl?" He laughed, patting her friendlily on the shoulder.

Violet forced a polite laugh. "Yeah… wouldn't want that."

"Still though," he said, returning to that thoughtful look, "nice costume. Who made it for you?"

Violet stiffened suddenly, unsure of how to answer. Should she say E? After all, E was famous back then for doing super costume work, so the truth wouldn't be at all hard to believe. But, he probably had more access to her in this time than he did in the future; he might start asking the woman questions about why in the world he gave a teenage girl a costume with his symbol on it.

"Was it E?" Incredible asked, cutting into her thoughts. "It looks like E's work."

What should she say now? Admit to it? But, that could get her into loads of trouble. According to the rule of thumb set by most Science Fiction Time films, making contact with your ancestors stood as a necessarily bad thing. Who knew what changes she'd dictated already with her interference in the Morning Star fight? She groped around her mind for words, her mouth opening without sound, eyes shifting about as if looking for ideas in things she saw. Nothing helped.

Luckily, a female reporter came up from behind Mr. Incredible begging for an interview before Violet had a chance to reply and he had a chance to ask her why she didn't.

"Channel 3 would love to have your take on what happened during today's Morning Star incident," the woman explained, her mouth stretched out in a white, toothy smile and her well-manicured fingernails wrapped around the stem of a padded microphone.

"Of course I'd do an interview," Incredible replied, smiling proudly. "But, I absolutely _insist_ you interview me along with my friend Incredi…girl?"

He'd turned around at that moment to only find an empty spot in place of the young woman that had stood nearby only moments before. His brow furrowed quizzically and the hand he'd lifted to gesture toward her dropped to his side with nothing to do. "She's…gone," he murmured.

"Incredigirl?" The reporter asked, curious. She glanced over Mr. Incredible's shoulder to the seemingly harmless spot of black asphalt he stared at, not completely comprehending of the situation. "Is she a new sidekick?"

"What?" Mr. Incredible turned to reporter with an abrupt, and slightly offended, jerk, shaking his head and forcing a slight laugh. He'd expected something like that to come up. "No, no, she's not affiliated with me at all," he quickly explained, trying to dispel the idea before it spread as a rumor. The last thing he needed was people thinking that he of all people needed a sidekick. "Her name's just similar. But she did help me fight…"

Violet phased back into visibility the moment she'd crept into the alleyway, her back pressed up against the dirty brick wall to keep her hidden in the shadows. She peeked beyond the corner of the building, glancing secretively to where Mr. Incredible stood chatting away with the reporter. She sighed with relief as the super began to relay what had happened that afternoon during the Morning Star fight. He'd forgotten her completely along with the questions that she'd left unanswered.

"That was close," she muttered to herself thankfully, blowing at a lock of hair that had managed to break free from her headband. She pulled off the hairpiece, brushing her fingers through the tangles she'd acquired in the heat and commotion of the fight, her mind beginning to wander and another thinking spell falling into place. She sighed, her hands slowing as she thought back to where she'd halted at her future father's questions, going over the situation in her head as if she were a coach looking over a play and picking out her weaknesses. "I hate it when my brain freezes like that."

She shook her head, trying to clear out the thoughts plaguing her. "Well, I should probably get my stuff," she muttered to herself, replacing the headband and pushing off the molding brick and mortar, her fingers running through the now untangled strands a final time before she turned toward the narrow pathway. She'd managed to take a couple of steps further into the alley when a high voice broke through her focused mind.

"Hey you!"

Violet jumped, the unexpected noise shattering through the numbing barrier set up by ponderings. She twisted around swiftly, stance guarded with her hands held up before her, fingers bent and ready to zap a force field if necessary. The sun shone in through the narrow entrance way, blindingly bright as it angled into the alley, leaving the intruder invisible aside from a long, sweeping shadow stretching out over the length of the concrete trail. She squinted her eyes to where the alley met the main street. She could see nothing of the intruder past a silhouette.

"Who's there?" she demanded, fortifying her voice in an attempt to sound strong, though her heart continued to pound from the initial surprise.

"You're the one that they call Incredigirl, aren't you?" the voice questioned, strong and challenging. The silhouette stomped toward her, gradually visible as the sunlight lost some of its strength from the alleyway gloom. The stranger had a strong pace, a self-confident one, each step deliberate and sure.

"Yes," Violet answered cautiously, her masked eyes narrowing with a new and different suspicion. Her hands lowered, no longer shielding her face, her brow furrowed more now with confusion than alarm.

As he came nearer, she became aware of more things about her intruder that the preliminary shock had robbed her of noticing. First off, he was short. Very short. His voice, which had first startled her because of its suddenness, now rung out high and young, almost bratty in its demands and disrespect. Her fear began to melt away, leaving only a slight wariness behind; the menace in his voice and tone came too natural, and yet too calculated for her to disregard completely. Whoever came up at her now could easily sound harsh and at the moment obviously meant to.

The figure halted nearby, halfway in shadow and halfway in light, face still imperceptible from the rays of dusty sunlight that managed to stream in powerfully through the entrance from the street. His arms crossed against his chest, a low laugh flowing out from his unseen mouth.

"Incredigirl…" he repeated, still chuckling. "I just have one question for you…"

Violet's hands rose up once again before her face, ready to defend. Whoever this stranger was, she didn't trust him, with his shadowy face and threatening speeches. She crooked the joints of her hands as she waited for his question, her brain prepared to activate a force field if the moment came to produce one. The silence lingered between the two for a few moments, the sounds of the passing crowd and the occasional wail of a departing police cruiser did little to allay the sudden and growing heaviness that had taken the air.

Suddenly, the figure leapt forward, one finger jabbed outward in an accusatory point. His mouth curled down into a deep grimace, freckled face an indignant red, blue eyes staring up at Violet with a sharp disapproval.

"Who do you think you are, Mr. Incredible's sidekick?" the intruder demanded, his mouth tightening into a more intense scowl.

Violet found herself unable to talk, lost in a state of shock as her brain scrambled to register the sight that had leapt from the shadows to stand in front of her.

It was a _kid_. A little freckle-faced kid wearing a white button up shirt and a pair of blue shorts—school clothes. Red hair, blue eyes, buck-teeth, probably younger than ten. And somehow, this all mixed together to produce a very angry, somewhat frightening little kid who came up at her as if he thought he could knock her over with a single punch.

Violet's brows had shot up to the top of her forehead and her mouth dropped open so wide it looked as if her jaw might've disconnected; she didn't even attempt to hide her surprise.

She tried to answer his question, a difficult thing to do when wrapped in shock, the words coming out as incomprehensible and jumbled, caught halfway into her throat and slurred together to form some new and ugly sound. Her hands had dropped completely now, hanging limp and dumbfounded at her sides, the desire to protect herself lost somewhere in her muddled brain.

The little boy glared at her as if she'd done something unforgivably bad, taking her words as little more than the babbling of a guilty person fumbling for an alibi.

"You do, don't you?" he asked, more a statement than a question. "Well, you're _not," _he added, sounding extremely bitter. "Mr. Incredible doesn't _have_ a sidekick!"

For a moment, the boy's grimace seemed to make way for a sly grin. "Not yet at least," he muttered. And as quickly as it had disappeared, the frown returned, deeper and with much more of a curl to it. "And if he _did_, it definitely wouldn't be some yucky girl like you!"

"WHAT?" Violet felt her heart jump at the insult, the silence that had taken her shocked away by the little boy's words like wild birds to a gunshot. She could almost feel herself falling backward in time again, a childhood mentality bubbling up from the remark to overtake her largely adult mind. "That's not nice!" she managed to sputter out, her hands fisting up belligerently.

She winced. That's not nice? She couldn't _believe_ she'd just _said_ that! Seven year olds and old people said things like that!

"The truth hurts!" The boy turned his back on her, hooked nose sniffing upwards in the air conclusively.

Violet found herself holding back the urge to yell something completely immature at the little boy, but her grown-up side had recovered just in time to push away her little seven-year-old persona before anything managed to leak out. "Look, kid," she began, her voice tight in her attempt at calm, "I don't like your attitude! You're being very rude! And I don't _want_ to be Mr. Incredible's stupid sidekick anyway!"

Violet cringed inwardly at the last sentence, little-Violet managing to escape for a moment before she had a chance to stop herself. She'd went through this sort of thing before, but only with Dash; he managed to bring out the worst and most childish part of her during their little everyday tiffs, no matter how hard she'd tried to convince herself that she'd developed past those sorts of things and had to act like an adult. She hated how often Dash was able to disorient her from this path, and at this particular moment hated how much this new little boy had managed to take her brother's position and maintain it.

"_Why don't you want to be Mr. Incredible's sidekick, huh?_" The boy demanded, his high voice breaking through Violet's thoughts and inner flinches. He whisked back towards her, freckles disappearing into a crossly embarrassed red flush that exploded across his face, the light blue eyes flashing angrily at some new offense. Apparently, Violet had managed to insult him. Big time, based on how low his eyebrows were. He came up at her, that condemning little finger whipping out again to point fiercely at her face. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to be his sidekick!"

"_What!" _Violet yelled back, losing her bearings for a second time. "What does that have to do with anything?!"

"Anyone would be honored to be Mr. Incredible's sidekick!" The boy rambled on, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke. "He's a great man, the greatest hero in Metroville—no, the _world!_ You'd have to be crazy to not want to be his sidekick!" He stopped finally, the suspicion in his eyes intensifying as they caught another glance of her. "Unless…" He paused, as an idea formed itself in his mind. "You think you're better than him, don't you?!"

Violet almost exploded at this new accusation.

"WHAAAAT?!"

There was no point or evidence or logic lying in his new path of words. It was almost as if he strove to find newer, worse things to accuse her of, as if he'd claimed a grudge on her for no apparent reason and sought to justify it. Violet felt her fingers digging deeper into her palm, her fists just about ready to punch but for the small sliver of adulthood that remained afloat in the flood of childish thoughts that before then only Dash could provoke.

"Well you're _not_!" The boy's hands clutched at his hips, ignoring her exclamation totally. "So don't get cocky, _Incredigirl!"_ He spat out her name like an expletive, saliva shooting out between his teeth along with it.

Violet opted for silence, though the urge to strangle something erupted inside of her. This was almost as bad—no, _worse_ than dealing with _Dash_! And, in her books, Dash was almost as bad as you could get without crossing the line into complete and utter evil.

"Look, kid," Violet addressed him, rediscovering and clinging to a floundering bit of her adult self that had managed to stay above the flood of juvenile displeasure, "you're _wrong_. I don't even know why we're fighting over this; I don't even know _you._"

"Oh, you will!" The boy broke in, arms crossed, a scheme evident in the shimmer of his deeply blue eyes. "You'll find out soon enough, _Incredigirl_."

Again, he treated the name as if it tasted bad bitter on his tongue, spitting it out like a gum piece without any flavor.

Violet rolled her eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh and dropping her shoulders, finally giving up. She knew kids like these. They knew what they believed and it would take more than a pack of stampeding elephants for them to budge even an inch away from it. Anything she said would only either be ignored or mangled to a nearly unrecognizable point and added to his arsenal of accusations and "evidence." Dash had perfected that sort of arguing, but more to annoy her than to protect a view. She never got used to it.

The boy's arms untangled, one hand finding a hip, the other shooting her another one of those well-trained critical pointer fingers. "Stop trying to hog all of Mr. Incredible's glory," he commanded. Violet only stood there with an unchanging annoyed expression, refusing to show any sort of response to him and his words for fear of encouraging him more. The boy, eyebrows brushing the tops of his eyes, began to back away, finger still aimed at her like a gun barrel.

He reached the end of the alleyway and stopped at the corner of the brick building, right before he would walk backward into the regrouping street. His finger withdrew to point at his eyes. "I'm watching you," he said in an attempt at menace.

Violet only responded with a shrug of her shoulders.

A moment later, the boy had turned away and disappeared, dashing down the street.

Violet stood alone for in the shadows of the alleyway, mind striving to digest and decipher whatever it was had just happened.

Questions popped up as quick and numerous as weeds in a garden, for the time being unanswered and generally unanswerable. Who was that kid? And the heck had just happened?

After running over his words and accusations again in her head, she realized rather quickly that he was a Mr. Incredible fan. A really, really big one. That way, things at least hooked together into something halfway meaningful. A fanatic, she supposed, who didn't appreciate a new superhero coming in on his idol's turf and "hogging all his glory" as the boy had put it only moments before. That explained a lot of things, including the dislike he seemed to have toward her and the reasoning behind it.

Of course, snippets of the conversation still had an air of blatant mystery around them, like the hints he dropped about "finding out who he was soon enough" or whatever he'd said at that time. Sounded almost like a threat.

Violet tried to laugh at herself. "It's probably nothing," she muttered, shrugging her shoulders and rounding about to face down the alley. "Dad always talked about fanatics like that. Annoying, but harmless. If I'm lucky, I'll probably never see him again."

The words sounded sincere enough to her, though the last bit came out a little more half-hearted than she would've liked. Brushing the suspicions off as just paranoia borne of a generally unfamiliar place, Violet began her sprint down the trash-littered path, going over the directions she and Frozone had traveled that morning in her head. The quicker she got her clothes back, the quicker she could change and have a crack at that stupid watch again.

* * *

Violet dragged her feet along the concrete, fatigue beginning to rear its ugly head straight in her direction. She'd wandered around the city for an hour or so already and had gotten lost somewhere far away from the Morning Star's site of defeat, where the number of cars had thinned out and housing apartments began popping up along the sidewalks. It seemed a much more pedestrian area, almost suburban in its relative quiet and iron-fenced trees, every once in a while a face poking out through an apartment window for fresh air or to water the flower box.

The place had an air of familiarity about it; Violet felt she'd traveled these parts before. Of course, some time in the future she probably did, but her tired brain couldn't figure exactly where it was she'd visited exactly that had sprouted up from this place. Hell, the areas could've looked exactly the same in the past and future and Violet probably wouldn't catch it.

Her eyelids had already begun to droop. The adrenaline of the fight and rescue had long since ebbed away, leaving sore muscles and an already tired body to meander aimlessly through Metroville without much to do or any place to sleep. That watch (which still refused to work, by the way) had zapped her away at a late hour, and here she'd arrived, noontime, now trying to support her worn out self through several hours that had added to her day.

She wanted a bench. A nice bench to sit on, maybe nap on for a bit. But so far, no luck in finding anything suitable. She almost wanted to drop down on the curb and take a rest. She didn't think she'd mind the concrete too much; she'd probably be too far into sleep to feel it anyway.

But she didn't have time to think things over like that, and the fear of getting caught and in trouble managed to keep her going for a few minutes more. But, she wasn't sure just how long she'd last in that condition.

After a while, when Violet'd almost reached her limit, she found herself crossing in front of a neat iron fence, painted white and stretched out before a school yard. The building sat several dozen feet away, plain, white, and boring, with little more than a painted Trojan gracing one front wall to brighten up its dull features. Closer by, a playground set nearer to the sidewalk, all wood and iron and memories of childhood days spent playing. A jungle gym, slide, and a pair of swings stood on the dirt and manicured grass, childless at the moment but somehow seeming expectant, as if waiting for the school day to end and life to enter their domain. Nearby, a shady oak tree stretched its long and twisting limbs outward, unable to touch the park with its shadow despite its groping, leaf-covered branches.

"Looks like Dash's school," Violet muttered, hands clutching at a rod in the white fence. She sighed, feeling her weariness begin to overcome her, and turned so her back pushed against the metal barrier. For a moment she leant against the fence, beginning to nod off as a fresh breeze bore down along the street and sidewalk, and she slid down to the sidewalk, closing her heavy eyes.

Just a nap, she told herself as she pulled in closer to allow space for whoever might walk by. Then, I can continue wandering aimlessly through town.

In a moment, the world seemed to fade black, and the strain of keeping awake melted away into a relieving sleep. Violet lost herself in dreams.

The bell had managed to snap Violet awake, dragging along with it the sounds of screaming students happily stampeding out of the school doors to go home. Cars lined the once-empty sidewalks now, ready and waiting for their passengers with parents sitting at the driver's seat inside and big siblings leaning, cool and casual, against the hood of the car, yelling and waving enthusiastically when they spotted their brother or sister in the departing crowd; the relative quiet that had seduced Violet into sleep had made way for typical after-school chaos.

Violet shook her head, trying to dispel the slight blur of her sight. She'd gotten a nap, so some weariness had dissipated with her dreams, but it wasn't a real sleep, and fatigue lingered as a slight weight and ache in her joints and around her eyes.

The middle of the day, and here she was, trying to get a full night's rest on some school sidewalk. Time travel sure messed a lot of things up.

She got up from her spot, yawning and stretching as her mind's gears creaked back hesitantly into working mode. She was still tired, but she had more courtesy than to nap in front of a platoon of parents and children. The afternoon sun shone down from above the apartments, beaming past the concrete roofs and metal tube chimneys onto the bustling scene below. It was probably about two something in the afternoon… not that Violet had any real notion of time at the moment.

Violet's attention turned to the playground, now teeming with life, its swings swaying, the slide filled, the jungle gym writhing with excitable children. Now that her brain worked better, she finally figured that this _was_ Dash's school. Or at least it's precursor. The same playground equipment, practically, though they'd scrapped the jungle gym sometime or another in the future to make way for a bigger and better play area. She also remembered the turf replaced by sand and rubber beading, probably for child safety. She smiled.

Finally. Something actually familiar.

She stood there for a moment, contentedly watching a group of kids as they played on the creaking swing set, when a situation under the old oak tree caught her eye.

"Huh?" Violet squinted, leaning over the fence to get a better peek at what was going on. Though they strove to hide behind the tree's large trunk, Violet made out a group of boys standing with the air of an organized gang, surrounding a single child, who stood nearly imperceptible against the tree but for a shoulder barely visible over the edge of the trunk. The group of boys seemed to be discussing something important with the boy who behind the tree, and Violet could see with a sudden wariness the look of anger that occupied most of the gang's faces. Her body froze, her hands clutching at the metal fence bars with an unperceived tightness, her eyes glued to the scene with an eerie sense of foreboding.

Suddenly, the tension snapped, and the biggest boy, the supposed leader of the group, swung an oversized fist at the boy against the tree, landing a violent punch somewhere on the kid's jaw. Violet saw a flailing of limbs as the victim toppled onto the ground, the bigger boy making quick work to climb on top of him and sit on his belly, barraging him unmercifully with punches and attacks that seemed drawn from an inner well of fury. The boys of the gang began to group around in a tight circle, blocking out the view of other parents or adults, though the faint strains of the age old school yard chant "fight!" reached Violet's ears from across the way.

"That kid's getting beat up!" Violet exclaimed, eyes widening. Her body snapped back into reality, no longer immobile, and she leant over the bars, yelling at them from the sidewalk. "Hey! Stop that!"

The whole group quieted down almost immediately, hearing her and turning to stare questioningly from the shade.

"You heard me!" Violet continued. She gave them a thoroughly disapproving glare, her fingers curling around the iron like claws.

The gang faced one another, apparently discussing a strategy amongst themselves. Violet managed to catch a glimpse of the attacker and his prey through the gaps of the now whispering group, the boy still sitting on the smaller kid's stomach, his fist now tangled up in the kid's collar. His other hand hovered threateningly in the air above the victim's head like a gun with the shooter's finger resting dangerously on the trigger. He was waiting for the right moment.

Violet watched their discussion impatiently. She had expected them to skedaddle away as soon as she spoke, but apparently the boys, being boys, questioned the reach of her authority. She wasn't exactly a grown up, after all, but Violet suspected she was old enough to at least merit _some_ respect.

But instead of respect, the group graced her with an eyeful of obscene gestures, mocking faces, and a splattering of drooling raspberries. Violet was at first taken aback, but then the surprise boiled into irritation, and Violet found her grip on the fence tightening. Violet lifted one leg onto a bar of the fence, pulling herself up along the barrier, still glaring indignantly at the group of boys who now stood laughing beneath the tree.

If they wouldn't listen to her on their own, she might as well _help_ them, right?.

The group broke into laughter, guffawing away at her expression and assuming they'd won the battle. The look on her face was _priceless_! They sure showed her for trying to butt in on their fun.

Their laughs began to fade off, leaving them contentedly breathless.

"Well," said the boy with the collar in his fist, turning back down on his victim with a malicious grin, "back to business."

He lifted his fist up, ready to strike, when the screams of his comrades stayed his hand. He looked up, confused, and saw with his own shriek, the girl they'd ignored jumping over the fence and coming at them like a lion.

"Scram!" he yelled, clambering off his prey and fumbling to get away. The rest of the gang followed along, some already moving before he'd spoken, yelling and flailing as they made their escape.

The area around the tree had completely cleared but for the victimized boy by the time Violet had arrived. She glared at the bullies as they rushed off toward the playground, her fists planted on her hips in a determined and warning stance. You do _not_ mess with Incredigirl when she hasn't had enough sleep.

One kid, already finding safety amongst the metal jumble of the jungle gym, turned to yell back.

"We'll get you next time, Whiney-Piney!" he warned, waving a fist at the little boy who now sat, scrunching himself up, against the oak tree's trunk. A second later he got a foot to the face from a climber above him.

Violet stifled a laugh and instead sighed, reaching a hand to a brush away a strand that had broken loose from her headband when she'd jumped the fence. "Man," she murmured to herself, "kids are jerks in the past too."

She leant up against the trunk, sighing, her sleepiness returning now in the cool shade beneath the oak. This seemed a more suitable place to nap than on the sidewalk, and the grass sprouting up around the roots felt soft and comfortable. She felt her eyelids dragging downward again. Unable to fight off the feeling, Violet crouched down and found a nest in the angle of the tree's bulging roots to sit. She closed her eyes, the sounds of the playground slowly fading into a comforting murmur.

The bare tremor of a whimper reminded her of what had happened.

Violet opened her eyes, shaking off the sleep as realization and remembrance trickled into her mind. She glanced to her side, shifting over to look beyond the edge of the tree trunk, where she saw a small form shivering against the bark.

She'd nearly forgotten about the little boy.

"Hey," she said gently, moving over to get a better view, "are you okay? The other boys are gone, now."

When the boy didn't answer, Violet got up and crouched directly behind him, reaching out a hand to grab his shoulder. "Did they hurt you badly?" she asked kindly.

No response. Violet frowned, afraid that maybe they'd hurt him enough to keep him from speaking.

"Hey, kid, are you—"

The moment her fingers brushed against his shoulder, the boy whipped around. "I'm _fine_," he snapped, despite the trail of blood that dribbled from his mouth down his chin. "I'm not a baby."

Violet felt another startle rattle her system.

It was the _kid_. The one in the alleyway that had yelled at her earlier. She hadn't noticed it before, but he sat there now, glaring up at her as if she'd stung him with her kindness. Her anger would've revived hadn't he looked so pathetic, cradling himself with blood and wiped away tears leaving wet paths on his face. At first, she was afraid that he'd recognized her; soon enough, however, she saw the anger had come from elsewhere and wasn't aimed at her the same way as it had earlier.

She pushed down a smile as another similarity to Dash came to mind: the need to be in control. Neither boy regarded themselves as children. The freckles, the behavior, the shining blue eyes… despite all that, inside themselves, they felt they were men. They weren't babies or kids. In any situation, they should be able to take the helm and guide themselves home. When things didn't go their way, and they ended up getting hurt… they opted more for anger than for whimpering to themselves, trying to hide their weaknesses. Another thing Violet figured while thinking too much.

The kid maintained his stare, as if demanding her to leave. But Violet wouldn't let that happen; no matter how angry he'd made her earlier that day (though, now out of her super suit, she doubted he knew that), she wouldn't let the poor kid suffer alone. She remained crouched beside him, her hand withdrawn but stern worry evident on her face. The kid's gaze began to falter, wet tears forming again in the corners of his eyes, and he turned away, pushing himself protectively up against the tree trunk, making sure she couldn't see his face.

"It's nothing," he muttered bitterly, obviously lying. "It just…stings a little. That's all."

"I'll bet," Violet replied, reaching out her hand again, this time to move his face back toward her. She brushed her finger beneath his lip.

"What are you—"

"You're bleeding," she said. She let her finger hover before his eyes, a smudge of red now staining her skin.

The kid practically jumped out of his defiance, his concern and fear obvious now in that wide-eyed, open-mouthed face. "Bleeding!" he exclaimed.

"Yup."

"Oh no!" he muttered, worry staking claim to his voice. He rubbed the back of his hand vigorously against his face, trying to erase that trail of blood from his chin. "They never beat me up _this_ hard before," he murmured to himself, biting his lip anxiously.

"They did this before?" Violet exclaimed. She should've expected it, what with the name calling and the practiced precision with which the gang had moved; this kid suffered from chronic bullying. She hated hearing about things like this. She never went through full-fledged physical abuse herself; her experience in elementary school stayed at the verbal end of the bully stick, but even the thought of anyone suffering at the hands of others made her blood boil. She looked at the kid sternly, obviously upset by the news, waiting for him to answer to question she'd asked.

The kid had turned slightly in his seat when Violet had shown him his blood, but now, this new question wanting an answer, he began to turn his back to her again. For a moment, it appeared he wanted to reply, but he stopped himself short and frowned defiantly.

"W-Why should I tell you?" he stammered out. He started looking suspicious again, and Violet noticed his arms moving to cross before his chest like he'd done when they'd first met in the alleyway.

"Because that's awful!" she answered bluntly, obviously disapproving. "There's nothing worse than being bullied!"

The line seemed to strike a sore spot; the boy faced her immediately, looking angry and hurt all at once. "I'm not being bullied!" he exclaimed.

Violet pulled back a bit, realizing that she might've come across as too blatant. She'd learned long ago that a lot of kids didn't like to admit to getting beat up; with this boy's conceit, the words must have hurt more than it would anyone else. Violet softened her expression, still looking bothered but not irately so, and muttered, "Sounds like it to me."

The boy's arms had crossed, and Violet recognized the same angrily embarrassed look he'd adopted while making his accusations in the alleyway. He had his head sinking slightly below his shoulders, as if guarding himself from her, his thighs tucking up against his body like another shield. "Well, what do you care?" he asked, staring at his knees with a forced interest. "You're just a stranger anyway."

Violet looked away, feeling suddenly out of place and uncomfortable in the situation. "Well," she began, "I guess I am, but…"

"I didn't ask for your help," he interjected. And, with a final movement, he turned his body, exposing his back to her. He meant to end the conversation. Talk to the back, because the face doesn't want to hear it.

Violet shuffled around her mind for something more to say, but she found herself sighing and finally standing up. She was going to leave; if the boy didn't want her there, she wouldn't deal with it. She'd have to find somewhere else to nap, she supposed, because it didn't seem _he_ wanted to move anytime soon and she hated awkward situations. She took a step in the direction of the white fence, but stopped, and glanced over her shoulder for a moment to take a final look at the little boy, deciding to leave him with something her father had told her when she was growing up.

"You don't need an invitation to help people," she said gravely. The slight, barely audible whimper came to a complete stop, and Violet noticed with curiosity that the boy had stiffened suddenly at her words. Violet stopped mid-step, brow furrowed at the reaction, her eyes resting on the little boy's back.

He pushed off of the tree and turned to her, a new sort of respect evident on his face. "Mr. Incredible," he murmured.

Violet's eyes perked upward on her forehead. "Hm?"

"During his interview with Melissa Alvers," the boy continued, getting onto his feet confidently, taking a moment to brush away grass blades and dirt from the seat of his pants, "he said the exact same thing. 'You don't need an invitation to help people.'"

She almost laughed at this. Of course, the statement could merit as one of Mr. Incredible's staple lessons for the children that idolized him; her father had a tendency to quote himself during her childhood. Violet, finding the boy beginning to open up, leant in and smiled. "Yeah," she said. "He's neat, isn't he?"

The boy's mouth stretched out into a charmingly buck-toothed grin.

"Got that right!"

* * *

"And in the fan club, I know the _most_ about him!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah!"

Violet smiled at Buddy (which she'd found out the kid's name to be), who'd just finished going through a number of facts he'd learned about his greatest idol, Mr. Incredible. The two had relocated to outside the school yard, and now sat on the edge of the sidewalk, chatting away about their mutual favorite super. Violet had discovered the extent of the kid's admiration toward her future father wound all the way around his brain almost obsessively. It was endearing and just a little unsettling at the same time.

"You sound like his number one fan," Violet told him, trying to continue the conversation.

"Really?" Buddy asked excitedly. "I think so too. I mean, hello, I now _all_ of his moves."

Buddy laughed, proud that he could flaunt his knowledge now to someone who at least seemed to appreciate it. Violet giggled along with him, infected by the pleasure she could sense radiating outward from him like warmth from a heater, and watched his blue eyes sparkle in the afternoon sunlight. When he wasn't whining or whimpering, he was actually adorable.

But, after a moment, Buddy's laughter faded, and his shining face suddenly fell, as if a shadow had floated into the scene to hover above him. She could see a new thought come into his head, the good feelings displaced by some grim remembrance, the guffaws replaced by an awkward silence.

Violet recognized his expression from their conversation beneath the oak tree, when she'd brought up bullying. A cross look, mixed with embarrassment, but, this time, a little sadness and disappointment came into play on his features. She found herself growing curious, but managed to keep her quiet. From what she'd gathered, Buddy would probably react badly to any personal questions like that.

"But… Mr. Incredible's got all these other stupid fans that think they're better than me just because they can buy all his stuff," Buddy muttered after a moment, a bitter and dejected grimace tugging down the corners of his mouth. "Just because they have _all_ his action figures and I don't, they think they're bigger fans than me. But they don't even know his top three favorite catch phrases." Buddy sighed, scratching his scalp through his red hair and shaking his head as if disapproving of the thought. "Just because I'm not rich doesn't mean I'm not his number one fan."

Violet nodded, sympathetic to the hurt in his voice, even though the scale of his fanaticism disturbed her a little. He's just a kid, she told herself. He seems to be going through a lot of stuff right now; he needs encouragement. And my dad would definitely want to encourage him if he were in _my_ place.

"Totally," Violet said. "I agree."

Buddy smiled weakly up at her, seemingly appreciative of her encouragement, but nevertheless turned to look at the black road before them, still looking thoughtful. "But, you tell them that and they call you stupid and tell you to shut up," he explained, dispirited. He grabbed nervously at the edge of the curb, feet tapping against the street.

Violet's eyebrows lowered as she began to speculate over his new information and what she'd learned about Buddy through her few minutes of acquaintanceship. "Those boys from earlier," she began slowly, "was that them?"

She glanced at Buddy, whose attention had switched from the asphalt back up to her. His expression had transfigured again, this one reverting back to that haughtiness that she'd acknowledged in his walk and attitude that morning. He had one eyebrow cocked upward and he looked at her as if she were stupid. "Uh, no," he replied, as if she should've known that easily. "Those guys beat me up because they're _stupid_."

Violet rolled her eyes, unappreciative of his tone and expression. "Why's that? Sounds like you're so-o-o nice to them," she said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Don't start with me!" Buddy exclaimed, becoming suddenly angry. "It's _true!_ They beat me up because I'm smarter than them and the teacher likes me better!"

Violet began to say something, but Buddy interjected, emotion beginning to shake his voice. "_You_ try being the smart kid!" he continued, obviously upset. "The dumb kids all gang up on you! Just because you don't want to be stupid like them!"

He breathed through his nose in harsh gasps, as if trying to keep himself from breaking out in tears right before her. Violet felt guilt begin to mumble at her critically inside her head, and she began to regret her earlier sarcasm. It had been an improper move for a super to make, anyway. What superhero mocked a little boy?

"Okay," she said softly, sincerely apologetic. "Don't cry."

"I'm not crying!" Buddy yelled, beating at a tear that had managed to cut down his cheek in hopes of hiding it from her before she noticed. He crossed his arms again, and she knew he was turning back into his bitter mode, his knees propping up against his chest, his mouth jutting forward in an indignant pout. "They're so stupid," he mumbled through clenched teeth. "Today, they beat me up because I skipped school and came in late and the teacher didn't punish me."

"Well, technically, that's not fair…"

"I _needed_ to," Buddy insisted. He groaned at Violet's disbelieving look, and went back to staring at the ground as if to bore holes. "You wouldn't understand. The point is that they're stupid."

No point arguing with him. She also learned that about him, something that didn't take long to infer. Her head moved back to the bullying, to how he'd let slip that it happened before, and that concern for him began to bother her brain again. She looked at him, examining his stiff and closed position.

"Maybe, you should tell someone," she suggested at length. "That way, they wouldn't b—"

"What do you know?" Buddy exclaimed, leaping up from his seat on the curb. Violet fell backward a bit, not expecting him to react in such a way. Buddy seemed strangely unhappy at her idea, his breath becoming huffy through flaring nostrils. He paced for a moment, hand grabbing at his temple as if to help him think, when he turned back toward her, his face reminding her of the incident that morning. "Don't you have someplace to _be_?" he asked tersely, glaring intensely with his milky blue eyes.

Violet could hear the message hidden in the question as if it had been spoken loud and clear.

_Go away. You're annoying me._

And yet, somehow, she didn't feel offended at all. She understood why he acted the way he did; after all, he'd opened up to her probably in hopes that she would sympathize with him, and here she sat, having the audacity to look at his situation from a more logical and distant point of view. Instead of agreeing with him, she looked at his problems from every angle, even some which contradicted his ideas. How dare she, right?

She laughed, gently, and leant back on her hands, coming across as a little too casual.

"Nope," she answered, shrugging her shoulders and playing her fingers against gravel that had come loose from the sidewalk. "I don't have anywhere to go. School's over and everything."

Buddy blinked, surprised at this answer. Violet stifled a giggle when she saw his eyes shifting slightly, his brain working to find a reply to what she'd just said.

"The store," he fumbled out after a moment.

"No money."

"Um… the movies?"

"You need money for the movies, Buddy."

"Not if you have a date paying for you," he said, grinning, the exchange becoming a game. "Don't old people like you go on dates?"

"Not everyday!" Violet laughed. "You have to be asked first."

"Maybe you should go look for one," Buddy said.

"I already _have_ a boyfriend," Violet answered.

"Well, then go look for him!"

Violet shook her head, smiling despite the new thoughts that rose from her head from these last words. She'd nearly forgotten about Tony and home, and now here they came up again, evoked by this strange little game. She hurried to focus once again on Buddy, cringing at the pain and frustration that the memory brought up.

"He's busy," she replied, forcing her grin. "So, too bad for you, I guess I have nowhere to go but here."

Buddy stood dumbfounded for a moment, pulling ideas from his head and trashing the ones that he knew she could refute with a word. He knitted his eyebrows and pouted his lip, eyes beginning to dart with ever quickening thought.

Violet watched him with a grin, head tilting onto her shoulder as she waited joyfully for a reply. She readied herself to answer, reaching into her well of wit and sarcasm, her fingers tapping expectantly against the sidewalk.

Come on, Buddy. Let's see what you can come up with.

"Home!" the kid finally exclaimed, a grin splitting his face as the answer came into his mind. He looked at Violet cockily, hands on hips, leaning down toward her as if daring to come up with an answer. "You've gotta go home _sometime._ You can't stay here all day."

Of course he'd say that. Life and it's path to _destroy_ her had dictated that. The thoughts she'd tried to suppress rose up into her mind: of her home, her family, Tony. She opened her mouth to reply, but she found herself unable to pull an answer around this new avalanche of thoughts. After spending a few seconds looking at Buddy's smug face, she shrugged, turning her head back to stare down the street.

"Well, you'd be wrong about that," she said, laughing weakly.

She heard Buddy shift, suddenly uneasy, in his place. "What are you talking about?" he asked, sounding annoyed.

Violet shrugged, trying her best to appear offhand. "It's nothing… I just, sort of, don't have a home right now."

Violet didn't know why she'd told Buddy. She didn't expect him to understand, or to even _care_ for that matter, and she could already hear his uncomfortable shuffle nearby, probably brought on by the sudden heaviness that had begun to overwhelm the atmosphere. She stared out across the street, to the brick and mortar walls of the surrounding apartments, thoughts over her own home beginning to fog up her consciousness.

She was afraid she might not be able to go home. After all, what could she do? The only ticket she had back to her own time nestled broken and useless in her pants pocket, and no matter how much she'd tried, she couldn't get it operating again. And if she couldn't go home, what would she do here? Sit on the street, without money, without a place to stay?

Her distraction was gone. Buddy's words had shattered it like a rock through a window, and now she couldn't stop the flood from coming in.

What would she do? Where would she go?

Violet dropped her head, taking in deep breaths to slow her heartbeat, which had started racing from the growing stress. She didn't know why she told Buddy, but now that it the issue had come up, she knew she couldn't take back what she had said. She couldn't tell the boy what or how it had happened that she didn't have a home, nor could she think up an alibi at the moment that would sound believable; Buddy was smarter than most kids. He could doubtless see through any lie she tried to tell him now.

Violet kept her eyes on the street, feeling the caress of the breeze as it wandered down the sidewalk. All she could to was wait and see how he'd react.

"What, did you runaway or something?" The kid asked after a moment, sounding slightly curious despite the unease in his voice.

Violet thought over how to answer, and decided to nod her head and agree with the alibi he'd made for her. It would make the most sense out of anything else she could tell him.

"Wow," Buddy muttered, letting out a low whistle. "I didn't know people still did that anymore!" The boy tucked his hands into his shorts pockets, looking about with a supposedly casual interest. "Where's your stuff?" he asked after a moment.

Violet shrugged, laughing quietly at the only answer that came into her mind. "Didn't bring any."

"That's stupid," Buddy said, condemning it like he condemned so many other things. He seemed generally unfazed by the glare that Violet shot up at him at this point, and continued. "Why would you run away from home without any money or stuff? What are you going to do? Live in an alleyway and eat out of a dumpster?"

Violet, seeing the logic of his argument, shrugged her shoulders in a defeated fashion, and responded with a half-hearted, "I hope not."

Buddy didn't seem to have a response to that.

A silence followed, thick and awkward, unbothered by anything other than the late afternoon wind and the random passing of cars down the nearby street. Violet's eyes continued their stare down the stretch of black road, unfocused, the sights going unseen. Her thoughts had finally drawn her in, and Violet found herself wandering through her noisy mind, trying to push her pessimistic ideas back into the dark corner of her mind from whence they came. Her fingers picked nervously at the sidewalk. Her hair moved smooth against the departing breeze.

Buddy seemed unsettled by what had come up. He remained at Violet's side, feeling that maybe the situation hadn't called for him to leave yet but left with nothing but a discomfiting stillness to try and handle. His fingers began twisting themselves into anxious knots, his feet tapping against the concrete in an uneven rhythm. He seemed highly interested in his fingers, which he looked down on with narrowed eyes. Every once in a while, his head would lift up to glance at Violet, as if hoping to find her talking again. But, of course, each try ended up with the same result. Violet wasn't going to add anything onto what she'd said anytime soon.

"Well," he said after a moment, coughing into a hand, "I've gotta go home. Mom's going to kill me if I don't get back on time."

"Okay," Violet said softly, barely catching Buddy's words from beyond her own thoughts.

"I'll see you then," he continued, shrugging his shoulders.

"See you."

"Bye."

"Bye."

Buddy remained in his spot for a few more moments, still watching Violet as if he expected her to explode any moment now. But, no explosion came, nor did anymore words beyond her final goodbye, and he finally began moving, stomping down the sidewalk away from Violet in a manner that seemed too deliberate to be real.

Let her mope if she wanted to, Buddy thought in an attempt to shrug off what felt like guilt. Not like he could do anything about it.

And yet, a few more steps away and he stopped, glancing over his shoulder again to where the older girl still sat on the edge of the path, as silent as ever. He stared for a while, watching her, until she finally noticed him a few moments later with a slight jump. She sent him a weak smile, waving goodbye feebly. Buddy, embarrassed that she'd caught him staring, made a swift and huffy turn, and finally began tramping along the path home.

Violet watched as the little boy at long last started his way to his house, barely noting the stiffness of his back or the clutch of the fists that swung at his side. Shrugging her shoulders, she faced out at the street again, pulling her knees to her chest and hugging them close. She felt vulnerable, now left with nothing but herself and the world to deal with.

What could she do? Maybe Buddy was right; all she could do was live in an alleyway and eat out of a dumpster.

Somehow that thought was _horribly_ depressing.

Violet unwrapped one arm from around her shins to dig into her pocket. Her fingers touched at the watch, closing around the bulk of metal and plastic with a tight fist. Violet closed her eyes, taking a breath and holding it before pulling her closed hand out of the pocket and before her face. She touched her knuckles gently to her forehead, now clutching at her fist with her other hand, almost praying.

"Please," she whispered, her grip tight and shaky around the machine. "Please, please, please, please, _please_."

She opened her fingers and her eyes at the same moment. She tried not to curse when she saw the stupid thing.

Still not working.

Of course, hoping that the watch would miraculously come back to life after spending a few hours napping and talking was a little bit unbelievable (and desperate for that matter). Violet, letting out a huffy sigh, crammed the watch back into her pocket and swung her arm around her legs. Life sucked. Life sucked a lot.

Suddenly, something grabbed at one of her hands and began tugging insistently down the sidewalk.

"Buddy, what are you doing?" she asked, unfolding herself and standing up.

"Come _on_," the boy continued, beginning to pull harder toward the path he'd taken just moments before. Violet, unsure of what exactly was happening, began to walk along behind him, Buddy leading her along enthusiastically.

"Where are we going?" Violet asked, curious.

"My house," the boy answered matter-of-factly, glancing back to grin at her. "I know you didn't ask… not out _loud_ anyway… but, you know, you don't need an invitation to help people, right?"

Violet was shocked. She couldn't believe it.

Buddy kept talking. "At first, I didn't know if I should do it or not. I mean, I didn't even know you or anything, and you were kind of stupid for not bringing any money or stuff with you when you ran away." Violet tried to say something to this, but Buddy continued before she could get a word in. "But, then I thought, WWMID: 'What would Mr. Incredible do?' And I figured he would help you out. So, I should too."

Violet laughed, feeling a sudden wash of relief beginning to take her over. She couldn't believe her luck. Maybe life didn't suck _too_ bad.

"But, you've gotta act sad when we get there, okay?" Buddy told her, completely serious. "That way, we've got a bigger chance of mom letting you stay." He noticed Violet's incredulous look. "Don't worry! If she won't let you then you can live in our alley and I'll feed you scraps through my window or something so you won't have to eat out of the dumpster."

"Thanks, Buddy," Violet began sarcastically, "but in case you haven't noticed, I'm not a stray dog."

Buddy glared at her. "Do you _want_ to eat out of a dumpster?" he asked bitterly, his pace quickening so that his tug on her arm became tighter.

Violet nearly tripped at the change in speed, but lengthened her strides to keep up. "Sorry," she answered, feeling guilty. After all, the kid was only trying to help her out.

She saw Buddy's mouth widen into a smile. "It's okay," he said, seemingly proud that he could say something like that to someone. As if he didn't get apologies very often.

His enthusiastic steps once again increased, and he turned to grab her hand with both of his, walking backwards now and pulling her with his momentum down the road. "We're almost there!" he exclaimed, this strange new eagerness bringing a smile to Violet's face "Let me see your sad face."

Violet pouted her lips, feeling a bit ridiculous as she reluctantly fulfilled the boy's command.

Buddy wrinkled his nose, laughing uproariously at her face. "You're not an actor, you know that? Stick out your lip more… I said stick out your lip! Yeah, okay, now make it quiver a little. Oh, and puppy dog eyes! They're sorta hard to do but—haha! You look like someone just flashed you or something… your eyes are open too wide! Here, you should…"

Violet spent the rest of the trip being dragged along, adjusting her face to Buddy's suggestions.

She could only imagine what living with him would be like.

* * *

**A/N:**** I always imagined Buddy as being incredibly enthusiastic when he wanted to do something, and incredibly sarcastic when he didn't. Or when he was angry. I dunno. I hope you liked it! Now's the time to review, please.**


	5. Mrs Pine

**Author's Notes:**** Yes, it's the fifth chapter of Incrediboy vs. Incredigirl, and it is up. I know, I took a long "hiatus" I guess you can call it, but it was really just a whole bunch of writing problems that included the overall inability to write. PLUS, I went through a drawing thing for a while, where all I could do was draw all day. Seriously, that's what I do. ::Laughs:: Drawing comes before writing for me, so sorry. **

** Anyway, no actiony sequences or anything in this chapter; more an introduction into Buddy's home life, I guess you can say. As with the third chapter, this chapter was supposed to be longer, but I decided to cut it short because it was becoming too long, and anyway, the ending suited me a lot better in this chapter than what was originally planned for it. So, I hope you like it! It's not my best writing; like I said earlier, there was a bunch of times when I just couldn't get the right descriptions out, but I hope you readers like it anyway. Please, read, and leave a review! I like getting those; they're like cookies.**

* * *

**Disclaimer: Is in the first chapter. Thanks a bunch!**

* * *

**Chapter 5: Mrs. Pine**

* * *

Mrs. Margaret Pine wiped away a trickle of sweat as it began to meander down her brow, releasing a noticeably weary but contented sigh. It had taken hours to get it done, and she admitted that several times into the job she'd doubted whether or not she'd actually accomplish her goal, but in the end it seemed she beat down the dirty-beyond-belief kitchen into submission. With enough time and elbow grease, you could achieve anything. Especially if you had some heavy duty cleaning supplies helping you out.

She'd spent the majority of that day cleaning up the remains of Buddy's last (and when she said last, she heart and soul meant _last_) indoor experiment, her only break taken to pop the meatloaf into the oven so that dinner would be ready for him when he arrived home from school. The char marks had taken the longest time for her to deal with; the ones scrawling across the ceiling in burnt and ugly esses had left her spending most of the morning with an upturned mop, swatting away as if at some invisible fly. The shards of broken storage jars had been swept up and thrown out, the sticking puddles they left behind wiped down and mopped away. She'd scrubbed diligently at the tiled counter tops, had gathered up the piles of cookbooks and refrigerator magnets Buddy knocked loose during his little escapade, and had finally finished up the job with a final swabbing of the kitchen floor. The smell of lemon rose up now in fresh-scented waves, mingling with the heady aroma of dinner finishing up in the oven, then drifting out through the thinly curtained windows to the car-lined sidewalk outside their building.

Mrs. Pine tucked her fiery red hair behind one ear, lugging the mop and empty bucket over to the kitchen cabinet and placing them snug against the corner. She pulled off the rubber gloves that covered her work-callused hands, tossing them into the bucket before she shut the door behind her with a finishing click.

Finally. That was done and over with.

But she didn't have any time for a rest or break, not even a moment to sip at a cup of coffee that she didn't even have time to make. She needed to finish up dinner for Buddy, and she had a job in an hour or so that she needed to get ready for and go to. She had a to-do list, one that stretched out long and tiring, arguably too much for one person to deal with. But what could she do? That was the life of a single mother, scraping together what she could to maintain the decent life she'd built for herself and her eight year old son. She needed to work hard to keep it up.

She wiped her fingers on the cotton apron she had wrapped around her waist over a simple salmon skirt, making her way to the oven. She crouched down, peeking in through the small window in the door to check on the meatloaf, cooking merrily on the oven tray as it had as she cleaned. Convinced it was finished, she stood up again with a fatigued grunt and pulled a pair of plaid oven mitts from their place hanging on a nail in the kitchen wall. She turned the heat off and opened the door with a creak of hinges accompanied with a puff of sweaty steam that smelled of meat and spice. Slipping on her mitts, she reached in and pulled out the tray with dinner scorching atop, looking delicious.

Margaret closed her eyes to take in a deep and gladsome whiff of a job well done. Buddy had better eat and be grateful for it when he came home. She wouldn't appreciate him grousing away like a child. Even though that was what he was, intellect aside. You'd think someone who could add as quick as a calculator might have a little more common sense and manners than Buddy did.

She tripped over to the small kitchen table that sat, round and clothed in red and white checkers, in the center of the newly-cleaned room. She took a final smell and then, her smile widening proudly, she set down the tray, slipping her hands out of the oversized mitts and leaving them beneath the still-warm tray to keep the tablecloth burn-free. Mrs. Pine smiled at her steaming handiwork, clapping the heat away from her palms. Now, didn't that look pretty?

She rubbed her hands together, going over the list in her head. Meatloaf finished; what else was there for her to prepare?

Vegetables. Buddy needed to eat those, whether he liked them or not, being a growing boy and all. Mrs. Pine walked to the cabinets, and began fishing for a can of carrots she remembered seeing during her clean up earlier that day. Her thin fingers pushed away canned meat and through bags of dried fruit, clicking her tongue busily as she searched. She had just found it hiding behind a box of raisins when the familiar strains of her beloved son's voice came drifting into the kitchen past the fluttering of her wind-bothered curtains.

"Come on!" she heard him say, his high voice insistent. "We're almost there."

Her brow furrowed a bit as she listened vaguely to his words, opening one drawer and sifting through the utensils for the can opener, the carrots in one hand.

"Now remember, look sad, alright?" he continued.

What in the world was he talking about? Mrs. Pine wondered, touching the can opener to the top edge of the can, now paying more attention to her son's voice coming from outside.

"No, sadder than that!" Buddy exclaimed. "Work with me here. Do you want to stay or not? Well, we're going to have to convince mom, and if you don't look sadder than that you'll be eating scraps through my bedroom window."

The words struck a memory and realization inside of her, rending her motionless before she had a chance to turn the can opener's crank.

"Oh, no," she mumbled, half-groaning at some memory. "Not again."

She dropped the can onto the counter without opening it, rushing out of the kitchen into the short hallway and down to the front door.

"No, Buddy Pine!" she yelled as she undid the lock, a look of frustration taking her young face. "You are _not_ bringing home another stray d—…girl." She stopped short, unable to hide her confusion.

She'd flung open the door mid-sentence, and when she saw what her boy had brought home, she nearly fell down embarrassed and more than a little confused.

Buddy stood at the door with such an innocent grin on his face and what appeared to be a teenage girl at his side looking like they'd just put her puppy to sleep. Mrs. Pine couldn't do much past stare for the first few moments, trying her best to gather up the bearings she'd lost out of surprise.

"Hey, mom!" Buddy said cheerily, waving at her as if nothing unusual was going on. "This is Violet. She ran away from home and she has no place to go, so she'll be staying with us for a little while. Okay?"

Mrs. Pine blinked, her son's word's too bizarre to her for easy digestion.

When she didn't reply for a few moments, Buddy took a step into the house, dragging Violet in behind him.

"Well, we'll be in my room. Come on, Violet."

Violet stumbled forward, barely able to catch herself as Buddy made an abrupt move into the little apartment, dragging her by one arm. The two entered the narrow hallway, the little boy taking on a brisk and decided pace as he led his visitor in, only nodding to his mother as he passed, as if he were the owner of a penthouse suite politely greeting some vague doorman. Mrs. Pine had nothing to say to this, it seemed; she took the nod without a word, instead staring her son's way with one bewildered eyebrow drifting upward on her forehead.

The moment _Violet_ passed, however, the tension began to spike. The initial shock had already begun to settle like dust on the floor, and Mrs. Pine seemed to have gathered enough bearings to realize that there was something very wrong with a strange teenage girl coming into their house with only Buddy's invitation.

Violet's face exploded into a blush, and for a moment she dropped the sad look that Buddy had jabbed her to wear to send Mrs. Pine a sheepish and apologetic grin. She dropped her mouth back into a frown just as the little boy tugged her away.

Violet trailed Buddy's quick steps, head bowed in embarrassment. She knew that whatever plan the kid had for her wouldn't hold up; she was familiar with these sorts of situations, and knew that most parents had enough brains not to let their children get away with something as ridiculous as _this_. She could already hear Mrs. Pine barking at Buddy for an explanation while Violet got pushed out of the door.

Violet couldn't tell if the kid saw and understood all this, too, but it didn't seem so; his pace hadn't lost an ounce of its confidence and neither had his grip on her hand. She couldn't see anything of his face past the back of his head, but she could just imagine his chin jutting out, set, sure, and ready.

At least one of them was convinced of their plan. This reassured her, but only by a little bit. The way Buddy acted, he probably thought all of his plans would work out in the end.

Violet closed her eyes, waiting for the explosion of parental authority to come screaming up from behind them.

_Buddy's mom would raise all hell… any time now… no real parent would let their child bring home a stranger after all… in just a moment… she's probably just trying to figure out what she wants to say… she had to yell at them now… no? In just a second, then…_

The further they walked down the hall, the better their chances seemed, and Violet felt herself beginning to relax despite the tension and absurdity of the situation.

_Maybe Buddy pulls these sorts of stunts often_, Violet tried to reason, beginning to breathe a little easier. She sorely wanted the plan to work, but she knew that every step she took was a push at her luck. After all, Life still had that "destroy Violet's life" campaign going on, and she doubted she'd seen the last of its little schemes.

But she _had_ to at least believe a little bit that it there might be a little possibility that it could perhaps probably maybe work. Just a little bit…

And yet, the moment Violet had finally dropped her shoulders in acceptance…

"**_Buddy Lionel Pine_**."

Violet and Buddy shared a cringe, stopping mid-step as Mrs. Pine's words juddered down their spines like a very loud and angry earthquake. The moment Violet had waited for had finally come, never mind a little late. How could she have expected otherwise? Violet would've liked to slap herself for her stupidity, but she was too busy acting like Mrs. Pine had gone Medusa and managed to get Violet to take a look.

"So much for the 'act-natural-and-maybe-she-won't-notice' strategy," Violet mumbled out, her earlier amiability flushed away like a goldfish with her now-dead hope. She clenched her teeth, imagining how ridiculous she looked now: a teenage girl holding a little boy's hand, following him home like a stray puppy (except less sad and adorable), and now acting like staying still would keep away a steaming mother's wrath. The alleyway and scraps deal Buddy had offered earlier seemed a much safer and better choice now.

Buddy had caught her words and looked like he could feel the shame bounding off of her, an insulted red coming out all over his freckles. He glowered back at her with his buckteeth bared like an angry rabbit.

"Maybe it's your fault for not looking sad enough!" he hissed, a pout puckering his face beneath his wrinkled up nose. Beside the growl to his voice, Violet could see he didn't want to move any bit either, probably feeling the same way she did about the entire situation regarding his mom. His eyes darted back and forth from his foot to her shin with a sorely aggravated look making camp on his face. It didn't take her much brainstorming to figure what he wanted to do.

Buddy seemed to abandon this plan and opted instead to squeeze Violet's fingers so hard that the tips began turning a suffocated purple.

"Hey!" Violet yelped. She snapped her fingers away from Buddy's and started flapping her hand through the air like she'd touched something hot, trying to get the blood to start flowing again.

And, like an actress taking her dramatic cue, Mrs. Pine came stomping forward from her waiting spot by the open doorway as Violet's hand slapped the air, the dull thump of her feet against the hallway catching a now regretful Violet's ear. Violet took a deep breath and whipped about to face the red-headed woman, who now came at her with sparking blue eyes and her pointer finger out and ready for a good wag and jab. Well, at least Violet knew where Buddy had gotten his pointing skills from; as far as angry mothers went, Mrs. Pine really seemed to know the most on how to scare people with that index finger.

"Look here, miss," the woman began, rounding in on Violet with a face mangled with umbrage, "I don't know where you get the _audacity_ to walk into my house uninvited, but I will not stand—"

Violet's hands shot up in a protective stance, like she was expecting Mrs. Pine to suddenly spit fire she might need to protect herself against.

"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, cringing at the look at Mrs. Pine's face. "I really… I mean, I didn't—"

"Violet," Buddy hissed, shaking his head. He looked almost embarrassed at her pitiful apology and stepped around her, finding a place between her and his mother like a hero defending a victim. "Let me take care of this, okay?"

His hands grabbed at his hips decidedly with his face strangely serious and unsmiling. He didn't say anything; he just leant forward, meeting his mother's eyes with a strangely intense stare, blue and calculating. Mrs. Pine did little more than raise an eyebrow and stare back.

The both of them had the same eyes, Violet noticed. A light and pensive blue that could spell out volumes with a single flickering glance. They had the same fire-red hair, the same open freckled face, the same eyes, and the same gaze. The hall stood silent and motionless; neither Pine spoke and Violet didn't have the courage to speak in the growing thickness of the atmosphere. And yet, the two seemed to be talking with one another through some unspoken language shared only through their eyes, and whatever was going on between them was making the feeling of the hallway more and more uncomfortable for Violet. Every once in a while she found herself looking toward the open doorway, wondering whether or not she should take the opportunity to shimmy herself out of the apartment before anything bad happened.

She tried to move, but every little twitch seemed out of place in the frozen tension that filled the apartment hall. She couldn't leave even if she had to.

Finally, Buddy spoke without his gaze faltering in the least.

"Mo-o-om," he said expectantly.

Mrs. Pine lifted a brow, her nose wrinkling, still returning the same gaze.

And then…

"No."

Buddy dropped his gaze, groaning. "Aw, come on, mom! Please!" he whined suddenly, still determined but without any of the intensity of just moments before.

The snap in tension nearly had Violet on the floor; she stumbled to keep herself on foot.

"She needs our help!" Buddy exclaimed, hands on his temples in an exaggeratingly frustrated gesture.

"How is that?" the woman asked evenly. Violet didn't know whether or not Mrs. Pine was just hard to sway or if she had to deal with these sorts of situations often, but she didn't seem to react in any real way to her son's change in attitude. Her hands folded across her chest and her lip stiffened just a bit more, but she maintained her steely-eyed gaze as if the boy was still staring. It was almost as if she couldn't see his wild gestures or hear the whine in his voice. Either that, or she was purposefully ignoring him.

"She's got nowhere else to go!" Buddy answered, motioning toward Violet like a visual aid in some business pitch.

"Yes, she does!" Mrs. Pine insisted. Her cool voice made way for anger. "_Her_ home, not ours!"

"She can't go home!" Buddy raged back. "She's a runaway!"

"A _runaway_?!"

"Yeah!"

"And you decided that she can stay with us?" Mrs. Pine gave her son a somewhat incredulous look, her blue eyes sparking with both frustration and disbelief.

Buddy seemed to falter for a short moment; the youthful determination giving way a slightly against his mother's logic. After all, what eight-year-old kid made this sort of decision by himself? Violet watched him for the few seconds where his brain seemed to clamber for a response, where he looked away from his mother with eyes darting from never-ending thoughts and ideas. Suddenly, he turned back, and, with a new resolve, replied steadily, "Mr. Incredible would help her out."

Mrs. Pine dropped her shoulders, her eyes rolling in their sockets, treating the response like something she was quite sick of getting, thank you very much. Apparently, Buddy used the "Mr. Incredible" tactic often; this didn't surprise Violet in the least, and she actually had to stifle a giggle despite the current situation. Buddy was wild in his own way, but he had some very interesting constants.

"Mr. Incredible," Mrs. Pine started out, with her mouth taking a half-scowl, as if it worked around something pretty bitter to her tastes, "isn't eight years old and not allowed to talk to strangers!"

Buddy pulled back a bit, taking a backwards step toward Violet, looking at his mother as if she'd just shot him. "But _mom_—"

"But _nothing_, Buddy," she interjected, her even exterior dropping completely and the Pine-family brand accusatory finger coming out to wag judgmentally in his face. "We can't _afford_ this. And anyway, _look_ at her." She waved an angry hand in Violet's direction, glaring at her with a unmerciful eye. "She's probably just another teenager who ran off because her daddy won't give her what she—" Mrs. Pine seemed to stop, straightening out suddenly with her attention still posed steadfastly on Violet. "Oh my goodness."

"Huh?" Violet said as she furrowed her brow, her hands beginning to float upward instinctively in a protective stance.

Mrs. Pine made her way past Buddy, the argument supposedly forgotten. The boy took a look of confusion twin to Violet's, following his mother as she stopped in front of the girl to squint analytically.

"Are those _bruises_ on your neck?" she asked, her voice and expression concerned in spite of her earlier attitude.

"Bruises?" Buddy piped up, obviously curious at this new circumstance.

"Oh my gosh, they _are_…" Mrs. Pine lifted her hand to her own throat, as if she could feel an invisible hand on her windpipe. "I can see the finger markings on your throat!"

Violet blinked in confusion, mirroring Mrs. Pine's own movements in a slow and bewildered way, her fingers making their way to touch her neck. A sudden shock of pain shot out beneath her fingertips as she pushed gingerly on the skin, and Violet found herself gasping, startled from this discovery. Mrs. Pine was right; she definitely couldn't _see_ them, but the fading throb of a bothered bruise convinced her of their existence. Where in the world could she have gotten them? She didn't remember—

Piercing eyes. Anger. Fire.

Violet's face momentarily lost whatever color it had, the memory of the day's fight becoming fresh in her mind. The Morning Star had done it, she remembered, in that last moment before Frozone had miraculously regained his powers and saved her. He'd choked her almost to the point of unconsciousness; bruises were inevitable. Her eyes shot up to Mrs. Pine, who maintained that half-sickened stare with her thin fingers brushing against her own throat as it bobbed slightly from deep and uneasy swallows.

"Let me see!"

Buddy reached out and grabbed Violet's arm, tugging her downward squeaking from surprise so that her neck hovered just about his eye level. Buddy stood quiet for a few moments, with his eyes squinted like a precise diamond cutter's, one hand on her arm, the other drifting near her neck as if wanting to touch it but deciding not to.

"Oh yeah," Buddy murmured, nodding his head suddenly as if he'd just finished examining her and had come to a diagnosis. He looked up from the marks that Violet couldn't see, giving her a face mixed with both concern and disgust, his lips pulled back into a frown with his tongue hanging out like he'd just taken a lick of something sour. He motioned with a hovering finger, pointing at it with the same morbid curiosity one would have finding a dead animal. "It's like there's a big purple hand around your neck!"

Violet straightened herself out, slipping her arm from Buddy's grasp, her hand wandering upwards to her throat and massaging the bruises curiously despite the pain that screamed from the pressure. She marveled at how she hadn't noticed them before; the adrenaline of the after-fight pride and celebration as well as her constant fretting over going home and finding shelter had probably bogged down her brain processes enough to keep the pain from registering. But now that Mrs. Pine had so kindly pointed the injury out to her, Violet found herself aching fiercely. It would help a little if she wouldn't keep touching the things, but there was some strange ingrained rule that dictated that bruises had to be poked, and Violet couldn't get herself to fight against it.

"Where did you get those, dear?" Mrs. Pine asked, taking a step toward her, the once angry front dropping to reveal something much more motherly and concerned.

Violet gaped at the woman, amazed at the transfiguration; as if she'd just witnessed a raging bull sparkle and pop into a mewing kitten. She was relieved, in a sense, knowing that the woman would have a much harder (and guiltier) time kicking her out of their house now that she'd seen strangle marks on Violet's neck. But, nevertheless, the wariness lingered, unfading.

Violet recognized that though her standing with Mrs. Pine had risen, any false move could get her booted out of the apartment easily. The new circumstance opened up an opportunity for her; if she spent the chance unwisely, she, as well as any hope of staying, would go flying out of the Pine family's door.

Mrs. Pine took another step forward.

"Who gave those bruises to you?"

Violet looked up, surprised out of her in-brain strategy session, and now scrambling to find some form of reply. What could she say? She couldn't tell the truth about the Morning Star incident, of course, and saying that the injuries were self-inflicted would definitely have her out on their doorstop as some crazy masochistic teenage runaway. She needed to take advantage of the moment, find a way to get further into Mrs. Pine's sympathies; right now, however, she couldn't figure out a viable excuse for the handprints around her throat.

"It was… an accident," Violet responded at last, her voice faltering at the end as she cringed at how stupid and unrealistic that answer seemed. An accident… what did she do? Trip and fall on someone's fingers? She hadn't even _spoken_ confidently; a lying tone rang sharp and clarion through what few words she had spoken. The disbelief in Mrs. Pine's face was unmistakable and now gaining sharper relief at Violet's visible regret.

Just when the image of scraps in the alleyway was just about barreling at her, Buddy's voice, strangely quiet, whispered into the moment.

"That's what _he_ used to tell everyone."

Violet glanced down at Buddy, whose face had taken on a solemn look. She could see some emotion roiling like a storm in his blue eyes. He took in shaper-than-usual breaths through his nose, and his buck teeth bit down on his bottom lip, as if some heavy thought had bounded into Buddy's mind and he was trying to keep himself from breaking underneath it.

Violet didn't understand his words, but she couldn't help but feel a lot of curiosity toward the situation. Who in the world could Buddy be talking about? Who was "he"?

She looked toward Mrs. Pine for some clue, only to find the woman's concern forgetting Violet for the moment and winding over to her son. Violet realized that what Buddy had said had meant something momentous for the both of them; whatever it was, his mother knew, and apparently saw the whispered statement as something for her to worry about.

Suddenly, Buddy pointed at her in that usual commanding way.

"Did your dad do it to you?" he asked, his voice conveying as much information as it demanded. Violet blinked, hearing the accusation hidden in the question, where Buddy usually hid it.

"Well, I…" Violet began, wondering where she should go from there. As he had done before, Buddy gave her another opening, though she didn't know whether or not she had the guts to pull through with this one. On one hand, saying she'd suffered these bruises under the hands of an abusive father would justify her "runaway" status and win her a considerably larger chance of gaining Mrs. Pine's pity. Also, the possibility that she'd help Violet rose; perhaps Mrs. Pine would let a room to keep her away from her "tormentor."

But, on the other hand, it meant exploiting what seemed hurting feelings on the family's part, and she found it difficult to bring herself to take that sort of self-absorbed action. Con men did that sort of thing; _supervillains_ did that sort of thing… Violet didn't want to find herself in the same boat as the people she'd risked her own life fighting against, even if it did mean fending for herself in this past-world.

"It _was_ him, wasn't it?" Buddy cut in, assuming things as he always did.

Violet didn't want to say yes, and yet couldn't get herself to say no either. The fear of being homeless and the duty of being moral played tug-o-war with her brain, and she could almost feel a rip forming straight down the middle. Her jaw bobbed up and down, unsure what to say, chewing on words that refused to leave her mouth.

"You can tell us," Mrs. Pine assured her, a strangely urgent gaze set on that tired face, as if she plead for Violet to admit of her father's supposed wrongdoings.

"No," Violet said quickly. The insistent expression frightened her for some reason; she didn't understand why either would want so desperately for her to report what abuse they thought she experienced, but she decided she couldn't lie to them about something that affected them in such a way. "It was an accident."

"Don't protect him!" Buddy exclaimed.

"No, really!" Violet insisted, startled by the boy's outburst. She sighed, taking a step back with her hands set up in front of her, explaining in a gesture that she didn't want to argue about it. She looked at the two, the mother looking worried, the son looking angry, and shook her head. "Look, I'm sorry for causing the two of you so much trouble. I really didn't mean for it to turn out this way," she said sincerely. Rubbing her neck a final, regretful time, she sidestepped Buddy and made for the door with her head hung apologetically. "I'll just go now."

She'd managed three steps when she could feel Buddy's grip on her wrist, and a moment later, she was tugged five paces back into the hallway.

"No," Buddy said tersely; his eyebrows lowered to his eyes and he'd taken on such a serious and commanding expression he almost seemed threatening.

Violet didn't regain her steps toward the door, but found herself lost between Buddy and the outside. She wanted to stay, but in the end the choice wasn't up to her, and now with Buddy grabbing at her arm like a demanding little animal, she didn't know what she was doing or which way she was headed.

It seemed Buddy caught this and decided to lead. Without letting go, he turned to his mother, their blue eyes meeting once more.

"Mom, we have to make her stay," he began, the tone of his voice quieter than it had been when he'd made his first argument. "Please! She can stay in my room or something; she can even have my bed. We gotta help her out!"

Mrs. Pine remained quiet, but Violet could practically see the argument storming about inside of her brain. Practicality and kindness butting heads, trying to take the lead in this new situation, doing the "on one hands" and "on the others" that Violet had familiarized herself with so much in the past few minutes. This could happen, that could happen, but what about _this_? All of these things tossing and turning inside like a bad dream, and Violet could see them all. Everything depended on this final decision.

In the end, Mrs. Pine just sighed wearily, hand finding her forehead and rubbing it gently but discreetly, as if wanting to hide the fact that she'd found herself a new headache, even if it was one she _wanted_ to take on.

"Mom," Buddy repeated, looking up at his mother with that Pine determination. "Mr. Incredible would—"

"Fine, she can stay." She cut through the sentence almost too abruptly, as if she was trying to keep the conversation from floating back to the boy's hero. She looked up, smiling though somewhat tightly.

Violet felt her heart skip a beat in joy, and she could see Buddy's bucktooth smile displacing the earlier harshness.

"Thanks, mom!" he said hugging her around the legs. "You won't regret this."

Mrs. Pine patted her son on the head, sighing again. "But you know the budget's tight," she reminded him, sparing a moment to glance at Violet embarrassedly. "It might be a little hard—"

"Don't worry about it," Buddy assured her. He gestured to Violet. "Someone that skinny probably doesn't eat much."

Violet pouted playfully, her hands finding her hips. "That's not very nice."

"Doesn't mean it's not true," Buddy smirked.

"You're such a smarty-pants, aren't you?"

"I don't think that's how you talk to someone who just helped you out."

"Well…" Violet didn't know how to respond to that.

But apparently, Buddy did.

"What do we say?" he asked, looking up at her expectantly, with his mouth smoothly spreading outward into a knowing smile.

Violet raised an eyebrow at Buddy, but then shook her head, smiling and laughing inwardly at the strange and sudden changes in the boy's demeanor. One moment he was angry, the next he was pleading, and now she found herself facing a snarky little boy with a grin. She looked at him, pursing her lips as if in thought, with Buddy crossing his arms tapping an impatient foot on the ground.

"Well?" he asked again. He reminded Violet of her parents during her younger years, when relatives had come over for Christmas and she'd just opened up a gift from Aunt Gertrude that she didn't like. That same question came up, and that same foot-tapping impatience… She remembered staring back at them defiantly as if saying, "Hinting at it won't make me want to do it." And then, putting on that fake smile you had to learn as a kid for these situations, and saying what her parents had wanted her to say in the most horribly saccharine voice while Aunt Gertrude clapped her hands, pleased.

But this time, no complaints and not too much defiance.

Violet only smiled. "Thank you."

* * *

Buddy had dragged Violet to his room, remembering his promise to lend her the space and bed (though, now that the passion of the pleading moment had faded, he'd added with an intimidating solemnity, "Don't _break_ anything."). The moment that Violet had stepped into the little bedroom, she'd thought of her father's office, of the almost uncountable memorabilia that hung from the walls and stared down from the shelves. Buddy seemed out to match him, with so many posters and framed newspaper and magazine clippings that the wallpaper ended up like nothing more than gutters between comic panels. Toys and action figures became book ends on simple wooden shelves. A plain desk and chair sat against one wall, with scribbled papers and pencils piled atop. An Incredible themed alarm clock ticked away next to an Incredible themed lamp, sitting upon a bedside table that stood beside a made bed with an Incredible themed bed set.

Violet wasn't sure whether she be scared, in awe, or just laugh.

"Wow," she said, because there really wasn't anything else to say.

"I know… great, isn't it?" Buddy asked, smiling proudly at his room. He grinned, sweeping his eyes over his quarters with a slight and approving bob of his head, when he stopped short the moment he caught sight of his desk. His face fell, adopting a bothered look, and he turned back to peek his head outside of the door.

"Mom!" he yelled into the hall, "you cleaned my room again, didn't you?"

Mrs. Pine's voice yelled back, "_Someone_ had to do it, and apparently, it wasn't on _your _to-do list!"

"I told you not to touch my stuff! I won't be able to find my plans now!"

"They're all on your desk, Buddy. Just _sort _it."

"But—fine!" Buddy said with a slight whine, pulling back into the room pouting. He closed the door behind him, giving it one final glare before turning and looking up at Violet with a smile. "Lemme show you around!"

Buddy commenced the tour excitedly, referring to all the collectibles he'd gathered over the years, describing them with a frightening and expert detail as he gestured with a trained wave of his hand. He'd started collecting a couple of years ago, and whatever money he'd managed to save up from allowance and odd jobs went almost immediately to his "Incredible fund." Buddy claimed he didn't particularly like working, but his devotion to the super helped him overcome all that. And besides, he didn't want to bother his mother with his business; she worked hard enough already, and he recognized that.

Violet thought over this last statement as Buddy went into the history and design of his prized "Mr. Incredible action figure with crook punching action." Buddy could come across as immature, from the whine of his voice to the his haughty pout; from what she'd gathered from meeting him, he knew more than kids his age and learned quicker, and he understood this maybe too much. His intelligence made him conceited, Violet could tell, but it didn't stop him from being a child. And yet, behind all this, she sensed something deeper, far from self-absorbed, operating beneath the knowledgeable and youthful outer shell.

Buddy cared for his mother very deeply, and despite all the obvious conceit and self-worth Buddy held for himself, it seemed he had a place in his heart carved in for his mother. She could feel it, and it ran deeper than even her own relationship with her own mom, and she couldn't help but wonder why. It wasn't typical. There had to be something more to it. But what?

_That's what _he_ used to tell everyone._

_Did your dad do it to you?_

_Don't protect him!_

Violet furrowed her brow. Could it be that...?

Buddy finished his explanation, and Violet just managed to catch the final chatty notes of an ending description, pulling herself out of her thoughts with a smile on her face.

"Very interesting," she told him, nodding. She pushed the heavy ponderings into the back of her head with the pile of questions she'd stored and built up over time. She promised to get back to them just before Buddy had taken her arm again and tugged her over to his desk.

"I wanna show you something!" he told her, letting go and hurrying over the mountainous stack of papers that sat near-toppling on the center of the simple table. "I've been working on them for weeks… I've got the model in the hall closet, but mom won't let me touch them right now after what happened in the kitchen… but the plans are here…" He started pulling papers from the stack in search of whatever he was talking about, glancing at the sheet's contents before tossing them onto the floor with a half-shrug, apparently not what he was looking for. Violet made a quick step forward, with hands extended carefully. She'd noticed the precarious wobble of the pile (unlike Buddy, who seemed too lost in looking for his plans to be aware that pulling from the middle of the stack lacked common sense), and she could already imagine the spill of the papers coming down upon the floor like an avalanche… not a pleasant thought.

Margaret Pine's voice came muffled from the kitchen.

"Buddy, I'm taking the night shift at the Chat 'n' Chew," she said.

"Okay, mom," Buddy answered back with a half mumble, sparing only a short attention to what his mother was saying as he continued to sift through the papers.

"That means I won't be home until eleven," Mrs. Pine continued.

Buddy nodded, groaning out of frustration from his thus far fruitless search. "Okay," he said again, running a hand through his red hair. "Where could that thing—I told her I wouldn't be able to find anything," he mumbled to himself through a pout. "She should listen to me more—"

"Laurie is coming over in an hour."

Buddy jumped suddenly, the surprise catching him in the middle of another paper tug that sent the pile up and flying into the air. Violet brought her hands up over her head, startled at the sudden deluge of white that had exploded from the table. The scrambled papers zigzagged downward in front of her, drifting and twirling in the air and then coming to a chaotic stop, cluttered on the once-immaculate floor.

Violet managed to catch sight of Buddy careening out of the room and into the hall, rushing down toward the kitchen. She followed after, curious.

When she arrived, she saw Buddy standing behind his mother, who stood at the counter calmly with an open can of vegetables in one hand. Buddy looked somewhat distraught.

"Aw, mom, not Laurie!" he exclaimed, his hands flailing around animatedly.

"Why not Laurie?" Mrs. Pine asked, one hand finding a resting spot on a slightly turned out hip, ready for a response.

"Because she's stupid," Buddy replied rather bluntly, arms crossing.

"Stupid?" Margaret Pine questioned, her own arms folding against her chest. She took on the weary and incredulous look of someone who'd been through the situation often enough. "How is she stupid?"

"First off, she _actually_ thinks Frozone is cooler than Mr. Incredible," Buddy said with a look of disgust on his face. "As if that'd ever happen."

Violet stifled a giggle as Mrs. Pine rolled her eyes.

"And second," Buddy continued, "she makes me go to bed at _eight thirty_."

"On time," Mrs. Pine interjected.

"No," Buddy insisted with a grimace. "Thirty minutes early!"

"Well, you know what they say!" Mrs. Pine replied, smiling tersely at her little boy as she leaned down to look him in the face. "Early to bed, early to rise!"

"Don't even," Buddy cut in, pointing at his mother to stop before she said the rest. "And anyway, I bet whoever said that didn't have a TV," he added with a mumble. He refolded his arms, looking down to stare at the floor as if it had wronged him.

Mrs. Pine sighed, shaking her head and then resting it in one palm in an exhausted and exasperated sort of way. "Early bedtime and hero-insult aside," she continued, her voice quiet but strained in an attempt to keep from melting down into a childish mentality (apparently, Buddy had the ability to bring this sort of situation to many people), "there is _no way _I'm going to leave you alone in the house without a baby sitter."

"Why not?" Buddy asked, his gaze fixating upon his mother. He looked slightly hurt, but greatly insulted. "I can take care of myself! I'm not a stupid baby."

"I didn't say you were," Mrs. Pine assured him. "But I don't want spend another day beating rocket soot out of the kitchen curtains!"

Buddy and his mother went into a deeper argument here, neither of them willing to budge from their positions, with Violet standing by the door jamb, watching inquiringly. The two of them were very much alike, she could see. Determined, intelligent… infuriatingly stubborn. Buddy apparently hated the babysitter enough to battle against even the _idea_, and Mrs. Pine couldn't even stomach the though of leaving her son home alone because of (from what Violet could gather by listening) a series of experiments gone awry that she was getting quite tired of, thank you very much. Violet pondered over the situation for a moment.

The real problem seemed that Buddy disliked his babysitter. The easiest solution was to leave Buddy with someone that he got along with.

Violet shrugged at the idea that naturally followed, guessing no harm would come from giving it a shot. She stepped cautiously toward the argument.

"Buddy Lionel Pine!" the mother exclaimed, throwing her hands to her side and flipping her face up toward the ceiling in frustration.

"Mom!" Buddy yelled back, fists punching down towards the floor.

Violet looked for a point to break into the conversation. "Excuse me, but—"

"What!" The family yelled in unison, turning to glare at the person who'd dared to intrude upon their discussion. It took a moment for them to figure out what had happened and also to realize that they were the reason an increasingly uncomfortable-looking Violet was staring apologetically at her hands.

Embarrassed, the two of them straightened themselves out, calming down, with Buddy mumbling apologies while playing with the hem of his shirt and Mrs. Pine laughing uneasily and biting at her bottom lip.

"I'm sorry," the older woman said after a moment, shaking her head at the unwarranted reaction she and her son had given their guest. "What is it, Violet?"

"Well…" Violet began, her voice shaky, still a little startled from the preceding event. "I sort of noticed that Buddy really doesn't like his baby sitter…"

"Got that right," Buddy mumbled, gaining a sharp stare from his mother.

Violet continued despite the interruption. "…and that you really need someone to look after him and the house while you're at work…"

Mrs. Pine raised an eyebrow, but nodded her head, her chin resting on the back of her hand.

"Well… Maybe _I_ could watch Buddy," Violet ended the thought with a shrug, looking down at her hands as they rubbed together nervously. She felt a little out of place asking, being new to the household and all; and at the moment, she'd suggested it completely under the assumption that Mrs. Pine would trust her and that Buddy liked her enough to jump at the idea instead of fighting for his own freedom like he had earlier.

"Yeah, mom!"

Violet looked up to see Buddy nodding his head excitedly.

"She's _way_ better than Laurie." He passed her a grin that seemed widely accepting, but for a small sparkle in the corner of his eyes that she suspected meant something along the lines of: _as long as I don't have get put to bed thirty minutes too early_. Buddy looked up at his mother earnestly. "Come on! Please? Let Violet do it!"

Mrs. Pine blinked at this, her eyelashes fluttering over widened eyes and her mouth falling open for a short moment from slight shock.

"You actually want her to do this?"

"Well, she's staying at the house anyway," Buddy said, shrugging his shoulders and looking away as if she'd just accused him of something embarrassing. "And she _wants_ to do it…so…"

Margaret nodded at the logic of the argument, and looked up at Violet thankfully. "Are you sure?" she asked, as if expecting her to change her mind at any moment.

"Yeah," Violet nodded. "I used to take care of my brothers all the time."

Her heart sank for a moment as she thought about her family. When would be the next time she could take care of her brothers again? Would there be a next time? She shook her head, trying to clear it of those pessimistic thoughts, hiding the inside's distress with an outward smile.

"You don't even have to pay me or anything… it's the least I can do for you letting me stay here."

"And everyone's happy," Buddy said, nodding his head decidedly. He grinned at his mother. "See how Laurie throws everything off?" he asked jokingly, tapping her leg with his elbow.

"Ha ha," Mrs. Pine laughed mockingly in reply. "Very funny. Go do your homework."

Buddy pulled back, his arms crossing again, and that familiar pout puckering his lips. "I'll do it later."

Mrs. Pine turned back to the counter, where she poured out the canned vegetables she'd been holding onto a bowl. Violet watched her actions quietly, once again taking an absentminded rub at her sore throat as she did so, noticing the calm but stiff movements with a familiar eye.

Mrs. Pine had more manners than Buddy did. Now that Violet had come into the room, she didn't want to partake in another fight. Buddy, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind at all, and, from what Violet could tell, had himself armed and ready for another verbal scuffle.

"Do it now, Buddy," Mrs. Pine said without a glance back at her son, talking with a strange evenness, as if she'd just found her center and clung to it like a lifesaver.

"It's real easy stuff," Buddy insisted, his mouth tightening just a bit at his mother's frank and calm order. "I can do it later."

Mrs. Pine didn't seem to twitch at this decided response, but continued to prepare the vegetables with measured movements, body language matching the composure of her voice.

"It's really easy stuff," she copied, finishing with the vegetables and now reaching for a small towel that hung off of the oven's handle. "You can do it now."

Buddy half-jumped, surprised at the slight sarcasm of the reply. His gaze became suddenly wary, brows lowered and eyes beginning to narrow as they gazed up at his apparently unfazed mother.

"Mom."

"Buddy."

"_Mom._"

"Now."

"But why?" Buddy groaned, stomping one foot on the floor. Violet watched, smile twitching on her face as she silently praised Mrs. Pine for her patience. Again, her experience with Dash accustomed her to this sort of arguing (she started to think she'd gone through every type of arguing in existence through Dash alone), and she understood the difficulty of keeping calm and quiet. Especially against loudmouths.

"I want your homework done before I leave for work," Margaret explained matter-of-factly, focused on wiping her hands. "I'm sick of you doing it last minute during breakfast."

"Why does it matter?" Buddy asked. He shrugged his shoulders as his eyes rolled sarcastically. "It still ends up better than everyone else's in the class anyway."

Mrs. Pine finally seemed bothered by Buddy's confidence. Her posture slumped from apparent exasperation, one hand reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose as a harsh sigh scratched out of her throat.

"Buddy," she said wearily, "just _do _it. _Please_."

Violet tried to stifle a giggle with her palm, betting herself that Buddy would keep at it until his mom exploded again. Dash did it a lot. She wanted to see where the argument would go.

Unfortunately for her, Buddy had caught her slight laughter before she had the chance to muffle it, and had decided she needed to do more than just watch the goings on.

"But, what about Violet, mom?" he said suddenly, gesturing backward to Violet who stiffened suddenly upon hearing her name mentioned. "I was going to show her around the house and it'd be rude to have her wait, her being a guest and all!"

Mrs. Pine glanced at Violet from over her shoulder, one eyebrow cocked upward on her forehead, fingers tapping thoughtfully against the countertop as she appraised her silently. Violet stayed still, uncomfortable under the thoughtful gaze.

"Well, I'm sure she wouldn't mind waiting for you to finish your homework," she said after a moment, the eyebrow still high and expectant. "Would you, Violet?"

"Well, I… I mean," Violet stammered out, discomfited by her sudden involvement. She felt the pressure building as both Pines stared at her, waiting for the response that would decide which way the argument would go. She let the thoughts run through her head for a while, looking up at the ceiling as if not to draw any more attention to herself, when, in the end she let out a sigh.

"Actually, I _am_ sort of tired," she said, rubbing her neck absentmindedly.

Buddy wasn't pleased.

"Aw, Violet!" he exclaimed, looking thoroughly distressed, as if an ally had just betrayed him to the enemy.

Mrs. Pine, on the other hand, had a rather smug smile spread across her features, unseen by her son, who had his own outraged attention focused completely on Violet.

"Well, it's true!" Violet swore, guilty but honest. She yawned genuinely, an inadvertent demonstration. "I haven't gotten a lot of sleep lately," she explained, this time a half-truth, "and I _would_ like a nap."

Buddy maintained that angry look for a moment before sighing, turning away from Violet with his shoulders drooping, reminding Violet of a wilting flower.

"But still," he muttered out, unable to argue against the truth and knowing this. He didn't seem to take defeat very well, and at the moment, he seemed very hurt. Like, she actually _had_ betrayed him.

Violet bit her lip, feeling responsible for that slump, and after a moment of thinking, walked up to Buddy and putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Just a short nap, Buddy," she told him. The boy looked up at her, lips pursed skeptically. "Heck, I'd be lucky to even get a few minutes in before you get your homework finished," Violet continued, appealing to his ego.

It seemed to work. Buddy's lips stretched out into a less-than-modest smile, and Violet swore she could see the pink of a slight blush creeping onto his freckled cheeks.

"I guess you're right," he said, shrugging somewhat shyly.

Violet gave him a warm smile and a half-laugh.

"I have an hour before I leave for work," Mrs. Pine told her, her smug expression replaced mostly by a genuinely pleasant smile. "You can take a nap until it's time to take care of Buddy."

Violet nodded her head, her muscles relaxing at the thought of getting some sleep.

"Thanks," She murmured, holding back a yawn. "I appreciate it."

"There are sheets in the cabinet," Mrs. Pine said as she moved from her place at the counter. She made her way to the hall door, beckoning with a glance and a finger for Violet to follow after. "Let me show you so you can change the bed and get caught up on that lost sleep."

Violet nodded, thanking Mrs. Pine once more as she walked toward the hall. The two were about to leave when Buddy piped up from behind.

"Hey," he yelled. Violet and Mrs. Pine turned back to the kitchen, where Buddy stood alone with an indignant frown taking his face. "You do know she's sleeping on _my _bed?" he asked.

"Of course," Mrs. Pine replied. "That's why I'm having her change the sheets.

"_My Mr. Incredible sheets?_" Buddy exclaimed, looking more hurt now than angry.

"Yes?" Mrs. Pine answered, sounding not the least bit apologetic. In fact, Vi could see a tiny bit of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, barely visible. It almost seemed she was enjoying torturing the little boy.

Buddy suddenly became very distressed, arguing animatedly against the thought of switching out Mr. Incredible for some flowery thing from the cabinet. He stumbled over his words, too upset to form completely intelligible sentences, apparently; in the end, he gave up on explaining himself (if that's what you would call it) and turned away with a growl, clutching at the sides of his head like he'd just gotten the world's worst migraine pounding away at his brain.

Mrs. Pine didn't seem to think too much of her son's obvious suffering. She shrugged her shoulders, still handling that tiny prickle of a smile, and had just begun to turn back into the hall when Violet, much more unused to Buddy's behavior made her way over.

He was mumbling to himself; Violet couldn't hear much of what he said because of his low voice, but none of it sounded at all happy. She put a hand on his shoulder, and he stopped suddenly, turning his head to peek at her questioningly over his shoulder. Violet only smiled.

"Don't worry," she assured him, patting him friendlily. "I'll just put the sheets over Mr. Incredible. You know, so my germs don't get all over your bed."

Buddy furrowed his brow for a moment, thinking over the option's pros and cons. Finally, he turned about, still looking somewhat skeptical but bobbing his head in a slow, accepting away.

"Okay, then," he muttered.

Violet nodded, satisfied with her dealing of the situation. She didn't know how Mrs. Pine could bear to torment her son without giving even half a care, but lord knew Violet couldn't. She still noticed Buddy's doubt, but at least he'd stopped murmuring what sounded like threats towards his own mother's wellbeing. She turned back toward the exit with a discreetly proud smile playing on her features, looking to where Mrs. Pine stood staring at her, from against the door jamb.

Violet's smile disappeared for a moment, replaced by slight confusion, when she noticed the look on Margaret Pine's face. The woman wore an unexplainably surprised expression: wide, blinking eyes with her eyebrows quirked up and wrinkling her forehead. She said nothing, only ogled, her crossed arms loose and almost undone from some mild shock, her mouth dropping just a little bit open so that Violet could see her tongue moving around quietly as if searching for some words to say. Violet didn't understand the look at all, and wondered to herself over what in the world Mrs. Pine could be thinking about. Had she done something wrong?

After a moment, Buddy's mom seemed to noticed Violet's returned look of confusion, and her mouth closed and curved into a smile, trying to hide her embarrassment.

"Well, then let's get those sheets," she said, acting as if nothing at all had happened.

"Okay," Violet replied. She didn't want to make Mrs. Pine feel uncomfortable by bringing up that strange look. She decided it would be much better to take the woman's lead and pretend that the stare had never occurred, so she just shrugged her shoulders and tripped over to the exit, taking on the little grin she'd lost in that moment that had never happened.

The two had started for the hall when Mrs. Pine stopped and turned to look at a now much calmer Buddy Pine, who still had his arms crossed and his feet planted firmly on the kitchen floor.

"Buddy," Mrs. Pine said with an insistent voice, adopting the pleasant but strained look of a mother. "Your homework."

The boy groaned, as if he'd hoped she would've forgotten through the moment of hubbub that had occurred, but then shrugged his shoulders acceptingly, followed the two out into the hallway, and stomped the whole path to his room.

* * *

**A/N:**** And that's the end of the fifth chapter. Sorry for it being so long, but I hope you enjoyed anyway! I know a lot of people think that Buddy comes from an abusive household, and I think that having a father like that would lead to Buddy going all "hero worship" on Mr. Incredible. But, I don't think his father was in his life for the whole time, like his mother left, or he left or something happened that would get rid of the father figure, because I don't see Buddy growing up with one either. There's a whole bunch of reasons I have for having the household like this, and having Mrs. Pine like that, and I know a lot of people probably won't agree with me over it, but it's my interpretation and I hope you don't mind. Thank you, and please, leave a review! **

**OH! And "Buddy Lionel Pine" was taken from crzysheelf, who made the middle name up. I just liked it. AND, the Chat and Chew diner was taken from "The Iron Giant," one of my favorite movies. Just a little bit of trivia for you. Haha! **


	6. Babysitting

**Author's Notes:**** I am currently going through a bout of the flu, so I'm at home typing up this story instead of at school writing it down in my journal. I hate being sick, but at least I get some opportunities to do things that I can't normally do at school. Like sleep for twelve hours straight and complain loudly about the English teacher from Hell. ::laughs:: But enough about that, let's get to the story. I haven't updated in, like, a month… more than a month. Craziness. I'm cracking down on it!**

** EDIT: Uh, yeah, read over the story and noticed ALL THESE HORRIBLE MISTAKES. Went back and rooted out some of them, as well as put in a whole two paragraphs that I'd forgotten OMG. ::laughs:: A WARNING TO YOU PEOPLE: DON'T TYPE THINGS UP ON THREE HOURS OF SLEEP WHILE WATCHING TELEVISION. **

** thank you. AND PLEASE READ::laughs::  
**

* * *

**Disclaimer:**** Back to the first chapter ye go, those who wish to read such things.**

* * *

**Chapter 6: Babysitting**

* * *

The hall had become unusually quiet, filled with nothing but the sounds of traffic passing by the open kitchen window just a room away. Mrs. Pine held the door of the cabinet gingerly, tapping her long fingers against the white-washed wood in a thoughtful way as the silence began to thicken and set, while Violet stood behind her with wrung hands, beginning to feel more and more uncomfortable in the situation.

Mrs. Pine probably had a good reason to not talk, but Violet couldn't help but feel it had something to do with _her_. The woman had seemed genial enough just moments earlier, but it seemed to disappear once Buddy's door had clicked closed behind him. Violet wondered whether or not she'd put on the kind act just to please Buddy. After all, he _was_ the reason Mrs. Pine had let Violet stay in the first place. And Violet hadn't forgotten that forced smile when she'd agreed to the whole business.

Violet sighed as quietly as she could, and took to playing with her fingers nervously, waiting for her sheets to be found and the moment to pass. She wouldn't disrupt this new quiet if she could help it; Mrs. Pine seemed set on maintaining it herself, and Violet didn't want to put herself in any further bad light than she probably already was in the woman's eyes.

"I've got to hand it to you, Violet, you certainly know how to deal with Buddy," Mrs. Pine said suddenly, pulling her hand from the cabinet door and starting her sheet search, as if the thought that had her fingers tapping had finally passed.

Violet looked up in surprise.

"I guess," she said slowly, somewhat confused.

"No, I'm serious!" Mrs. Pine insisted, glancing back at her with a once-more gentle smile as she pushed through the sheets and covers in the cabinet. "You're really doing a great job! That's more than I can say for most people. You can probably tell. Buddy isn't exactly easy to handle, let alone get along with." She paused to laugh embarrassedly, rubbing the back of her neck a moment in a sort of humorous shame. "Even for me, and I'm his mother!"

Violet bowed her head, smiling meekly at the praise. She felt the tension melting off into a loose puddle at her feet, and whispered a dozen silent thank yous inside her head that Mrs. Pine had decided to have a nice conversation instead of doing all the other things she could've done.

"Well, I've got a brother who's a lot like Buddy, so I'm kind of used to it," Violet explained, remembering back to all the times that day the woman's son had reminded her of Dash. She admitted, Buddy listened to her a lot more readily than Dash tended to, but the same self-confident attitude barreled out at her with just a single glance at the boy; the same smug grins, the same whiny "I-don't-want-to-do-my-homework" moans, the same freckles and the same crossed arms. A corner of Violet's mouth twitched upward in a slight, tic-like movement. The only smile she could get at the moment, thinking of home, no matter how small it was.

Mrs. Pine looked back discreetly at Violet, still thumbing sheet folds as a smile crept slyly onto her face.

"Like Buddy?" she asked, sounding mildly interested. "How so?"

"Well," Violet began, wondering how to put her thoughts exactly, "personality wise, I guess." She shrugged her shoulders, adopting a somewhat sheepish grin. "They're both pretty confident when it comes to the stuff they do…"

"Ah," Mrs. Pine acknowledged with a nod. "So… your brother ins't a Mr. incredible fanatic, is he?"

"Oh no!" Violet exclaimed, her eyes as wide as saucers at the thought.

Mrs. Pine began laughing so hard she needed to support herself against the cabinet door, and Violet realized her over reaction moments after it had occurred. She lowered her eyes in mortification. The image of Dash acting in anyway like Buddy when it came to Mr. Incredible, father or not, had thrown her so off, she couldn't even come around to accepting its credibility. At least, she couldn't see her little brother rambling on about Mr. Incredible's exploits in fan boyish detail for as long as Buddy had managed that afternoon. Her reaction had reflected that, and probably ended up meaning insult to Buddy.

Which was probably the reason why Mrs. Pine was clutching at her sides and trying to catch her breath like she'd just taken a five minute long underwater dive.

"Well, I mean, he _is_ a fan," Violet tried to explain, "but not a fan like _Buddy_."

Violet realized that putting an emphasis on his name in that sentence was just as insulting as her first outburst, and she found herself glancing off sheepishly yet again as Mrs. Pine released another hearty laugh. Violet let a breath out through her nose, rubbing her arm worriedly. She was so stupid sometimes.

After a few moments of rollicking laughter, Mrs. Pine had been reduced to a slumped and gasping figure, clutching onto the cabinet doors like they ere the only thing keeping her off of her knees.

Violet waited for the woman to at least halfway catch her breath before mumbling out an apology.

"Oh, no, no, no!" Mrs. Pine exclaimed, catching sight of Violet's pathetic stance. "Don't worry. I wouldn't wish anyone to be a fan like Buddy!" She cassed Violet her own embarrassed grin, glancing at her son's closed bedroom door as if to make sure the boy wasn't peeking through, trying to eavesdrop. She leaned in surreptitiously. "You have to admit, it's a little creepy."

"Well…"

Violet _really_ didn't know how to respond to that.

It _was_ creepy in a sense that a kid could have such devotion to a stranger, though she probably felt uncomfortable because the worshipped stranger was in fact her _father_. She wouldn't be surprised at all if Buddy knew more about her dad than _she_ did, not that she actually knew too much about Bob Parr in the first place. She just started getting to really know him after all; they only truly began connecting a few months ago, during the whole Syndrome escapade. But, aside from all that circumstance, yes, Buddy's little obsession could easily be called creepy.

But, then again, was it any different from the magnifying glass fans put movie stars under? Anyone could call Buddy Pine a fanatic, but no one could say he was the only one.

At least, that's how Violet reasoned.

Luckily, Mrs. Pine had apparently asked her question rhetorically, and Violet snapped out of her mini brain-argument greeted by the woman's back. Mrs. Pine had started thumbing through frills and folds again, continuing to talk to Violet as she worked.

"It's a really intense hero worship," she said, tugging a dull pink bed sheet from the middle of the pile. After examining it with a few turnovers, she nodded contently and slung the article over one arm, then continued speaking with a grin that exuded an embarrassed pride. "But that's Buddy for you. He's a devoted little boy."

Violet watched curiously as Mrs. Pine's features softened and the age broke through onto her face, the kindness of the moment defining the wrinkles born of sleepless nights and worrisome days, and for the first time Mrs. Pine seemed like a real mother. She was young; Violet could tell from the fire in her eyes and hair, and the attitude, more sisterly than maternal, that she always treated Buddy with. But the hard years had drawn rings around her eyes and chiseled out crows' feet at their corners. Violet knew she was looking at a woman who was older inside than she was outside, who cared more than she dared to let on.

Another remarkable resemblance she shared with her son.

"Even if it is a little creepy… I'm a little thankful for his interest," Mrs. Pine admitted with a sigh, plaintive. Her hands played aimlessly at the plaited frills on the pillowcases, purpose lost, replaced by some bothering thought. "Times are tough here, with money, so he's actually working on his own to buy his toys. The gently smile lessened quietly, a bare wisp of a grin left lingering on her face.

Violet felt the heaviness begin to resurface, but her eyes remained fastened onto Mrs. Pine, increasingly curious about where the conversation had traveled.

"And anyway, he needs someone to look up to," the woman almost whispered. Everything had slowed; her eyes had deepened mysteriously, her absentminded finger-plucking had dwindled to little more than an occasional flick at the pillowcases. "His father…" she began. But then she stopped. The sentence hung, unfinished and ever-present, echoing like a call through Violet's anticipating mind, as anxious as a cliffhanger.

Violet clutched at the tips of her black hair, expectant, as Mrs. Pine wallowed in a newfound silence. The woman's eyes had widened as if from shock, twitching from unreadable thoughts.

Suddenly, everything seemed to cave in, and the woman raised a hand to hide her face. Her shoulders slumped and her mouth quivered, shaking from a long and trembling sigh that dripped with unhappiness. She looked ready to cry.

"Mrs. Pine?" Violet spoke gently and apologetically, feeling responsible for the uncomfortable mood. She approached tentatively, trying to glimpse the woman's expression through the fingers splaying across her face.

Again, the father. Violet hadn't even been in the Pine household for an hour before discovering the tip of some bad memories poking above the friendly surface like a shark fin in the middle of the ocean. She didn't dare ask why Buddy and his mother reacted spitefully whenever someone mentioned the word father, but the mystery tugged at her mind like a persistent child.

"Violet…those bruises," Mrs. Pine spoke finally, her voice low and fluttering, threatening to vanish. "You should tell someone. It doesn't have to be me, and it doesn't have to happen now…" She paused, turning fully so that Violet could see her well, the tearful redness in her eyes earnest and almost beseeching. "…But you have to tell _someone."_

She let out a quivering breath, her face turning back to stare at the carpeted floor. It seemed the small bit of courage she'd managed to muster had flooded out all at once, and the memories that had silenced her just moments ago had once again overwhelmed her mind.

Violet said nothing. She was prepared to listen away, for as long as Mrs. Pine needed to speak, if it would relieve her from any troubles. Buddy had opened up to her because he had problems he couldn't bottle up any longer. Violet had come as an understanding stranger and stayed as some new confidante. And Buddy was only a kid; Violet could only imagine what sorts of troubles his _mother_ suffered under, what things _she_ forced herself to stopper up inside.

The moment of quiet stagnated in the emotion-thick atmosphere, bothered only by Mrs. Pine's shaky sighs and the outside noise occasionally wandering in. Violet remained patient and kept a watchful eye planted on the woman's distressed face, waiting for the lost strength to reemerge and the words to once again be spoken.

Mrs. Pine finally released a half-sighing chuckle. Her eyes darted up to find Violet's.

"I know I seem so forward and everything, but… let's just say Buddy and I had our _own_ bruises not too long ago." Mrs. Pine's sadness seemed to mingle with a sudden anger, her brow furrowing and her frown deepening. Her fingers had whisked up to brush against her neck, as if Violet's injury had magically leapt onto her own throat. She touched bruises that no one could see, but she could feel. Bruises that never went away.

Violet let the words register in her mind, the shocked realization leaping out and mentally slapping her in the face.

"You mean," she began and halted, unable to say what so clearly spoke inside her brain.

Mrs. Pine looked at Violet mournfully for a moment before seemingly packing away the feelings into some dark corner, dropping the melancholy face to tack up a not-quite-sincere smile.

"Well, we're getting on," she assured Violet with a half shrug, an attempt at waving off the sorrowed atmosphere that had flooded the hall. "It took us a while, but we finally left."

That final thought injected a little more truth and enthusiasm into Mrs. Pine's smile, the corners of her mouth twitching upward slightly.

"You're very brave Mrs. Pine," Violet said, a bit in awe. She couldn't imagine going through something like abuse and summoning the strength to escape it. Mrs. Pine probably lived with fear nipping like piranha at her heels; stop for a moment she might get lost, and where would she, let alone Buddy, be then?

"If you want brave," Mrs. Pine replied with a playful grin, "look at Buddy."

Violet nodded in agreement, mind tracking back to the playground and the alleyway, the strength of the kid's pose, his attempts (no matter how unsuccessful) to fend for himself. And then to just less than an hour ago, fighting for Violet's right to stay in their house, unpersuaded from his plans and always pushing forward to that final goal.

"I know what you mean."

The feelings had become light again and Mrs. Pine returned to her duty amongst the bedspreads and covers, plucking out a blanket and pillowcase with a speed that seemed to fly on happy thoughts. Violet bit her lip in a modestly satisfied way; it seemed that listening to Mrs. Pine's problems had allayed some of the woman's emotional burdens, albeit just by a little. It had also drawn her just a tad further into the Pine family's life. She at least felt trustable now, and the feeling of being a foreigner in an unfamiliar country had finally begun to dissipate.

"You know," Mrs. Pine chirped, "Buddy actually wants to become a superhero when he grows up so he can stop these sorts of bad things from happening."

Violet couldn't help but giggle, recognizing the impossible dream but respecting the boy fully for it.

"That's adorable!" she exclaimed.

"I just heard the word adorable. Better not be about me."

Mrs. Pine and Violet turned to see Buddy now standing behind them in the hall, eyebrow raised and what looked like a packet of completed homework in his hands.

His mother let out a false scoff, rolling her eyes like a teenager.

"Of course not," she said. "Why in the world would Violet use the world 'adorable' to describe you?"

Buddy pouted at the sarcasm for a moment before rolling his eyes as his mother had and turning to Violet. Apparently, he'd grown used to Margaret Pine's sardonic quips and decided they only merited a second's worth of annoyance. At the moment, he had other things to irritate him.

"Well," he began, redirecting his frown to the dark-haired teenager. He slapped the worksheets he had with the back of his hand, saying, "I just finished my homework and you haven't even started napping yet!"

"Sorry," she said with a shrug. "I didn't expect you'd be finished already! You're too fast for me, Buddy."

Violet could see Mrs. Pine trying not to smirk out of the corner of her eye. When in doubt, appeal to Buddy's swelled head.

Buddy didn't seem to notice and instead had taken his chin into one hand thoughtfully.

"Maybe I should've waited for you to sleep before I started," he reasoned, treating the situation like some logic puzzle.

"Yeah!" Violet insisted. "Give me a head start next time!"

Buddy's pondering frown spread up and out into a conceited smile, and he nodded out his "okay" with his buckteeth grinning up at her.

It was strange how quickly moods seemed to change in this house; the discomfiting conversation that had Mrs. Pine on the verge of tears rolled back, nearly forgotten, into the back of Violet's mind, and the sunshine of a child-like conversation had all bodies light and unstainable, at least for the moment. Buddy's frown had flipped into a smile, the heavy air had floated up like a carnival balloon. Margaret Pine's memories traveled from the sad to the happy. And all in moments. Violet wondered if she would change because of this, or if she would change them, or if anything a tall would happen during her stay with the Pines.

She would have to wait and see.

* * *

Violet napped well for an hour, stumbling off to sleep almost the exact minute she set her head down on the now-frilly pillow on Buddy's bed. She slept like she was in history class after pulling an all-nighter: somewhere halfway between feeling guilty and being too tired to really pretend to care. Every once in a while she'd stir a bit, hearing something that sounded vaguely like Buddy passing through, paper crumpling underfoot or toys coming off the shelf and being played with. It felt so quiet and peaceful that she'd wander back to sleep soon enough, and lose herself in quiet peaceful dreams that made her half-smile subconsciously.

Mrs. Pine woke her up before leaving for work, handing Violet a rundown of Buddy's nightly schedule, along with numbers she'd might have to call if, "Buddy did anything stupid." Then, she waved her goodbye's, kissing Buddy on the cheek, and ankled it out the door towards the old Chat 'n' Chew diner.

Violet took to her task like any good babysitter, and, strangely enough, Buddy didn't seem to be any real trouble. Most of the time he behaved relatively well, eating dinner like he was told (though he had quite a few things to say about his mother's killer meatloaf and why the Chat 'n' Chew had never let her touch a skillet), and even going so far as to clean up his place at the table when he'd choked down his last bite.

After that, he got Violet to play a rousing game of hero, where Violet acted as the poor damsel in distress, captured by the evil and malevolent Baron von Ruthless. She'd nearly died from being dipped into a pool of lava deep within the Baron's volcanic lair, but luckily Mr. Incredible (played by the talented Buddy Pine) heard her cries for help and rescued her just before her toe had touched the molten rock. She'd thanked him for his greatness and ever-present kindness (words prompted by Buddy), but the modest hero only replied, "I'm just here to help."

When the baron was thoroughly defeated and his lair had once again become the living room, Violet hit a bit of a snag trying to get Buddy to brush his teeth and get ready for bed. Violet could never figure what little kids had against baths and tooth brushing, but for as long as she'd babysat, it was one thing most kids fought tooth and nail to avoid. And, as much as Buddy insisted he was smarter than the other kids, he certainly didn't go out of his way to break this constant. Violet even tried the story about teeth rotting and falling out, but Buddy only shot back that he still had adult teeth to replace them anyway and he'd worry about it when he couldn't grow a new set. As for bathing, he'd come up with some story about people in Africa who lived just fine and only took a bath once a year, and if it was good enough for them, then it was good enough for him.

Violet would have said something more, but the sleep-deprivation had started to set in. Not wanting to spend anymore time arguing, she went for the universal babysitter's trump card: an extended bedtime.

Buddy sniffed suspiciously at the offer for a while like a police dog looking for a drug cache, negotiating television privileges during his one hour, and asking whether she'd ever lived just to get things done. After swearing her honesty on a stack of "Incredible Adventures" comic books and augmenting the promise with a pinky swear, Buddy finally hurried off to the bathroom, eagerly yelling out catchphrases as the lock clicked behind him.

Violet took the opportunity to relax in the living room.

The living room lay across the hall from the kitchen, cozy and windowless. It was small, almost just a bedroom but for the patched loveseat and the television placed where the bed would have sat. A standing lamp emitted a warm orange light from the far corner, beside a dusty old bookcase, filled with children's stories with fading titles and thinning spines, probably from years of faithful reading. The stray potted plant and a few hanging family pictures (decidedly fatherless) finished up the room.

Violet lowered herself down on the couch with a tired groan. She was exhausted; she hadn't caught up with her usual sleep hours, her schedule was seriously wonked up, and if she didn't take at least a little nap soon she knew she'd end up passing out when she shouldn't.

"Time for a nap," Violet decided, easing her head against the armrest with an arm swept over her eyes. "Naps are good. Naps are very good."

Her eyelids closed against the warm skin of her inner elbow, and her body at long last began to relax. Her tightened muscles released. The straining headache faded. Her stress flowed out of her body in a low, relieving sigh, and once again Violet felt her mind begin to blank and laze, listening sleepily to the occasional splash and giggle coming from the bathroom just down the hall.

Sleep came on as easy as Sunday morning.

* * *

"Hey, move, you couch hog."

Violet furrowed her brow, shifting slightly on the loveseat as her consciousness stirred.

"I want to sit down! Move!"

"Huh?" she laboriously peeked one eye open, fighting against the overwhelming desire to just ignore it and keep dreaming. The world strayed, unfocused, into her vision. A sleep-blurred blob seemed to be talking to her with its pudding hands resting on its fuzzy hips.

…What was happening again?

"I said move!"

Before Violet could respond or even completely register what was going on, a sudden blow to the stomach knocked the wind straight out of her. She gasped and coughed like a fish out of water, both eyes red and wide open. Oh, she was awake now.

And there was the culprit, innocently reading a Mr. Incredible comic book with his backside perched not so innocently on her gut.

"Buddy!" Violet groaned, trying to wiggle up into a sitting position. Little boys should _not_ be so heavy. She rubbed her eyes. "What are you doing?"

"I wanted to sit down," he replied calmly without looking up, "but you were in the way."

He licked a finger almost too casually and turned the page of his magazine. Violet watched with more than a little annoyance.

"You know, Buddy," she said with the tone of someone who'd just been rudely awakened from the world's best nap, "you've got to learn to show a bit more courtesy to people.

Buddy didn't even stop reading.

"Says the lady who takes up the whole couch," he muttered with something of a frown.

Violet rolled her eyes. He had a response for everything, didn't he?

"Fine," Violet exclaimed. She tried to push up no avail. "I'll move! Would you just get off me?"

"Sorry, your chance expired half a minute ago. Tough luck," Buddy said, engrossed in his reading. "And stop squirming, will ya? I just got comfy for crying out loud."

Violet couldn't believe it. Buddy acting as if _she_ had wronged _him._ That was too much like Dash for her _not_ to be annoyed.

"Fine, take the space," she huffed, following Buddy's earlier examples and crossing her arms. She turned away, pouting. "I don't care. Go ahead."

"Okay then."

Things quieted down once again, with Violet silently fuming as all good babysitters learn to do and Buddy continuing to turn pages and occasionally mouth a word or phrase he found particularly heroic or inspiring. Violet looked off, examining a random stain on the floor, trying to calm herself down. She had to remind herself that Buddy was not Dash. That Buddy was an only child. That a smack upside the head never solved anything.

"Okay, why are you letting me?" Buddy demanded suddenly, sitting up and looking around his backside in a strange little bout of paranoia. "I'm not sitting on gum, am I? What's wrong with this spot?"

"Well, I don't know about earlier," Violet muttered, knowing without so much as a twitch that, once again, Buddy had succeeded in making her act immature, "but now it's got your butt-prints on it."

Buddy looked at her with an expression that stated in a dry British voice: I am not amused.

"I asked for what was _wrong_ with it."

"And I told you."

Buddy snorted in mock-snobbery, his nose sniffing up into the air. "That's not wrong, that's an honor!"

Violet smirked despite her irritation.

"Ewwww," she said, her voice a high-pitched whine, reminding her of her playground days whenever a particularly nasty-looking bug popped out of the grass, "_Buddy germs_."

"You think you've got it bad?" Buddy asked with a smirk of his own. "Now I've got icky Violet germs on my butt. I'm gonna have to take a bath in disinfectant now just to get them all off."

"But Buddy!" Violet exclaimed, putting a hand to her mouth in fake shock. "Little bacteria _die_ in disinfectant! You're mom will _hate_ me if she came home and you were gone!"

Her voice came with a strange bite this time, almost tangible and physical in its attack that even Violet couldn't believe for a moment that she had spoken. Buddy's eyes opened wide at the words, real surprise making camp on his face. Soon enough, however, it was swept away, and the angry little boy in the park peeked out past the freckles. He bowed his head, looking incredibly hurt.

"Now, that was just mean," he grumbled, sniffing his nose, indignant.

Violet sighed, feeling that maybe she'd gone a teensy bit too far with their little game.

"I know," she soughed. "I'm sorry."

"No you're not," Buddy said with a hard-edged voice. His lower jaw jutted out in the usual defensive way, and once again, his arms lifted to cross.

He _actually_ didn't believe her!

Violet felt the guilt begin to upset her stomach. Well, it made sense; you could only take bullying and abuse for so long before it started killing whatever trust you had.

"I really am," she said softly. "I'm sorry."

Buddy appraised her claim warily, his meticulous blue eyes working on her expression like a mechanic to a car.

"If you're sorry," he began slowly, "then you have to take it back."

Violet nodded without a fight, putting up her hands to show her compliance.

"Of course, I take everything back."

"Cross your heart?"

"And hope to die."

Buddy nodded hesitantly for a moment, and then smiled, finally content with the little transaction.

"Good," he said, with a final decided bob of his head.

"Except for the butt-prints," Violet cut in, hiding a smile behind a disgusted wrinkle of her nose. "They're gross."

"Hmph!" Buddy pouted. "Only if gross means 'an improvement.'"

Violet raised an eyebrow at the sudden change, taking in the smug know-it-all grin with a certain amount of bemusement. She still couldn't believe how easily feelings seemed to shift in the household. Either Buddy was subject to mood swings or he was very good at hiding how he really felt.

Violet scoffed. "Well, only if you—"

"It's showtime!"

A tinny voice broke into the conversation, accompanied with a strange and vaguely epic chiming tune. Violet jumped, startled.

"Oh crud," Buddy said, sliding off of Violet's stomach onto the floor.

"What was that?" Violet asked, looking around her.

"The alarm in my room," Buddy replied. He rushed out into the hallway, in a hurry. "It's almost time for the eight o' clock news!"

Violet sat up finally, rubbing her sore midsection with a perplexed expression wandering around her eyes.

"The eight o' clock news?" she inquired, curious.

"Yeah!" Buddy came back in, arms full of corn chip bags and Twinkies, a half-full box of hard candy dangling from his fingertips. "Turn on the TV; I don't want to miss anything!"

Violet turned the dial on the old set, not completely in the light about the situation, but still won in by the boy's enthusiasm. As the blare of the news program's starting anthem played, Buddy plopped down on the floor before the television, already starting on the corn chips as a perfectly coiffed anchorman faded past the Channel 3 logo onto the screen.

"This is the Channel 3 eight o' clock news. I am your anchorman Phillip Andrews, with tonight's story…"

"You like watching the news, Buddy?" Violet asked, watching as the boy's legs bumped excitedly against the floor.

"Yup," he answered, eyes glued to the screen. "Sometimes Mr. Incredible's on ("of course," Violet muttered) because some stupid bank robber thinks he can get away with crime in this town." Buddy let out a haughty blast of laughter. "Ha!" When will they ever learn? The turf of Mr. Incredible is the turf of justice!"

Violet tried not to snicker, but couldn't completely help herself. "Turf of justice?" she snorted just a bit.

Buddy caught it quick and easy, turning from the television with eyebrows lowered and buckteeth bared. "Don't laugh!" he exclaimed. "You know what I mean!"

Violet smiled, giggling inwardly but shrugging offhandly on the outside, eyebrows cocked as if mildly surprised by Buddy's outburst.

"Who said anything about laughing?" she asked, standing up from the couch and seating herself down beside him, Indian-style. "I was going to ask if I could join you."

She reached for a corn chip, but Buddy pulled the bag away as quick as a hungry snapping turtle. He glared at her through squinted eyes.

"If you promise," he spoke cautiously, "to honor Mr. Incredible's name."

He had the look of a spy waiting for a password. Violet grinned at how serious he was taking it, but nevertheless drew a cross over her heart with her index finger.

"Already do," she swore, making the scout's honor signal with her hand.

Buddy seemed to ease a bit.

"And don't eat all the snacks," he added, meaning it. "They're from my secret stash; even mom doesn't know about them."

Violet couldn't see why any kid in their right mind would tell their babysitter of all people about their secret stash, but she nevertheless nodded her head in agreement.

"I'll leave that up to you," she said.

"Okay then, have a chip!"

Buddy seemed happy to have someone to share the moment with, offering her the bag of corn chips with an insistent smile. Violet took one politely.

"It's a Friday, and criminals _always_ try something dumb on Fridays," he explained, reaching out to up the volume n the television set. He glanced at her, flashing a smile before looking back at the glowing screen. "You won't be disappointed."

Violet chewed on the corn chip thoughtfully and shifted into a comfortable position beside him. Her face turned to the set.

"I'm sure I won't."

* * *

Mrs. Pine had expected to come home to the usual scene.

When she opened the door, the hall would be a mess and the living room would be turned war zone. Something broken, something burned, food crumbs, with the babysitter groaning, rubbing her temples, on the couch and Buddy yelling something about injustice from his bedroom. And, sometimes, if Buddy had made a _real_ ruckus, a chair propped up against the bedroom door, keeping him in.

Which would explain the awed "Wow" when she turned the knob of the front door to find her house still very intact.

The apartment was quiet. All lights but the one in the hall had been flipped off, and an overwhelming feeling of "bedtime" seemed to permeate throughout the house like a radio wave. Something that this house hadn't really felt in a _long_ time. Margaret shut the entrance quietly behind her, twisting the lock closed and hooking the door latch.

She peeked into the kitchen.

No broken jars as far she could see, and the dishes sparkled cleanly in the blue-tinted darkness.

The living room had all its furniture upright. The potted plants hadn't lost an ounce of dirt.

But for a few mini-puddles along the rim of the skin and a towel lying on the floor outside the tub, the bathroom seemed almost immaculate.

And no rocket soot _anywhere_.

Apparently, Violet _did_ have a bit of a way with her Buddy.

Mrs. Pine began to pull her jacket off, letting out a quiet sigh at the thought of another hard day passing and the knowledge of another one coming to take its place. She felt old; her knees creaked as she moved, she said, her knuckles throbbed and her back had begun to bend a little, she could see it. And, by _gum_, she could've sworn she saw a white hair poking out of her bun today at the diner. White hair to go with her wrinkles, because she knew she had those too.

She let out another sigh.

Sometimes, she just wanted things to stop mattering so that she could get some sleep. Some real, worry-free sleep. The type that parents never got to have. Where she could dream of flowers and rabbits and the days when she was still with Bradley, her first love. Maybe even dream that she'd stayed with him instead of leaving for Dale.

Some nice worry-free sleep with nice worry-free dreams. The type that someone like her could never have, not in a million years.

Margaret stopped before Buddy's bedroom door, silent, listening to the soft snores quavering from inside. Gingerly, she eased the door open, sneaking her head in through the crack for a look.

She couldn't help but smile.

The room definitely didn't match the others: Buddy's papers spread out along the floor like a sperate carpet, scribbles and sketches slightly visible from the dull white glow of the Mr. Incredible nightlight plugged into an outlet in the far wall. He hadn't even _attempted_ to tidy it up; he'd unfolded his sleeping bag over the sketches and was currently sprawled out, drooling on the stylized "I" that emblazoned his pillowcase. On the bed, Violet's slim form moved gently as she breathed, the salmon sheets draped over her slim curves.

Yes, Mrs. Pine thought as she pulled back into the hall, that kind of sleep.

A moment later, she disappeared into her room, searching for a dream.

* * *

**A/N: And that's it for this chapter. Not as well written as I would like it to be, but cut me some slack, I did this mainly inbetween classes (and sometimes during class when I wasn't s'posed to, but don't tell that to Mr. Tanner). I was going to write some more; it was actually supposed to be, like, twice as long, but I wanted to post, and I already felt that the chapter would have too many things going on if I added another bit to it. And anyway, it would've fit better as a separate chapter, so that's what I'm going to do. ::Laughs:: Anyway, there you have it! Enjoy it now; who knows when I'll update next.**

**BWAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA etc, etc.**


End file.
